


Permafrost

by komagayda



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Demigod!Viktor, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, faun!Christophe, mlm author
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-10-30 20:14:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10884132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/komagayda/pseuds/komagayda
Summary: Everyone had heard the tales of the Prince of Winter and his frozen heart, cursed over three hundred years ago by his father's wife, a punishment for the elder god's infidelity. Ever since, the kingdoms surrounding the glade of immortals had been cast into a cold, eternal winter.and every child knew that every year, a new bride was sent to the castle at the top of the mountain, crossing over into the realm of the ancients in order to try their hand at thawing the heart of ice and snow.and every human who set foot in the glade knew it was a death sentence, for none had survived past a year in the castle, their own hearts devoured by its cruel master.Yuuri Katsuki knew all this as he stood at the edge of the mortal realm, and yet he still hoped that perhaps he would be the one to break the curse...





	1. The Lottery

                Yuuri Katsuki stirred slightly, the final vestiges of sleep haunting the corners of his mind like pale spectres. He didn’t remember the dream he’d been having, but it was a restless one that dug its way into his flesh, making his hair stand on end. He cast his tired eyes to the window, absorbing the pale, uniform grey of the sky.

                He normally would’ve been awake hours ago, standing out in the cold, seeking the few curative herbs that grew along the skeletal naked trees, picking them from the snow until his fingers stung from the cold bite of winter. He would then return to the apothecary, helping his family with the brews and tending to the ill and elderly. It was not the most exciting routine, but it was honest work, not to mention important in the _Third Winter Century_. The cruel cold made Medicine Houses like Yu-Topia very busy, with the harsh drop in temperatures suppressing the immune systems of those subjected to the whims of nature.

                 However, there was little point in rising early today, as the medicine house was closed like most businesses in the village. The village was currently as still and quiet as the endless blanket of grey that sprawled over the world. Today was the lottery, and it was Hasetsu’s turn to serve tribute, as everything had cycled back to the sleepy village at the edge of humanity, and thus did everyone take advantage of the final few hours of tranquillity before the ceremony unfolded.

                Every year, as per the tradition, the kingdom that was to offer their tribute to the mountain cycled, and from there a random town or village was selected from within its borders. The system was fair, precise, clinical, and universally feared by those who lived in the kingdoms. So, therefore, despite the fact that a small village nestled in the deepest corner of Saga should’ve otherwise been unimportant, they’d been selected by the emperor to host the lottery.

                Refusal would’ve been a horrible mistake, incurring terrible consequences for the people of the small community. Thus, did they prepare for the heartbreak the day would bring.

                Yuuri stretched his long limbs skywards, pushing down the thick duvet and rising to his feet. He slowly made his way down the stairs from his bedroom down to the common area of the Medicine House, which seemed surprisingly empty with only his family occupying the space within. At the long table, his family sat, a hearty breakfast spread along the oaken surface. Dense, hearty bread made from arrowroot flour, a rich stew of rabbit meat, dark, tart berries and root vegetables and a pale green tea brewed from pine needles made his stomach rumble slightly. He sat next to his older sister, a tall, stout woman named Mari. She smiled over her cup of tea, handing him a roll as he joined them at the table.

                “Good morning, layabout,” she said her heavily lidded eyes still dreary from her own restless sleep. No one in Hasetsu slept well that night, it seemed. “How did you sleep?”

                “Just about as good as you did,” he said with a yawn, “I’ll be happy when this is over.”

                She nodded grimly, picking a corner of bread crust, and dipping it in the stew before popping it into her mouth. “You should eat up, we only have a few hours before we’re to gather in the square.”

                Despite the forced casualness of their conversation, the siblings both kept their eyes low, avoiding their parent’s worried eyes. Since both Yuuri and Mari were unwed and of age, they were eligible for the lottery. Most families only had to worry about entering one child, so entering two must have been a heartache neither of them wanted to face head on.

                To think that only a few weeks prior he’d been teasing his sister about the fact that she was single at thirty years of age. It was common knowledge in Hasetsu that Mari Katsuki was married to the medicine house. A stalwart worker who worked herself to the bone, endlessly dedicated to ensuring that the business flourished even with the difficulty of acquiring and cultivating the medicinal plants they needed to run everything efficiently. Despite their childish bickering about it, both of them knew that this was for the best. No man (nor woman, for the matter) could ever live up to the powerful storge and sense of duty that lived within her heart.

                The pair ate wordlessly for the rest of the meal before retiring to their rooms once more to prepare for the afternoon’s festivities, changing into their seldom used formal wear, peeling off their plain, dark red jinbei that made up the apothecary’s uniforms and changing into the colourful yukata that were reserved for the occasion. Once they were appropriately dressed, they made their way towards the town.

                The streets of Hasetsu were filling with people, all dressed in bright, festive garments, a splash of colour like flowers amongst the snow, looking too saturated in the silvery, calm winter light. Yuuri smiled as he passed in front of the smithy, waving amicably to the nervous looking woman who stood in front of the door, trying to keep her three scurrying children in line. Beside her, her strong, broad-shouldered husband waved back with calloused worker’s hands, a warm smile on his face. They were all worn from lack of sleep, it seemed.

                “Good morning, Yuuri,” Yuuko said as she gently swabbed some dirt off the cheek of one of the identical little girls, “Mari. How are you doing today?”

                “About as well as we can,” He sighed as he ruffled the hair of a second child, earning some gleeful giggles for his efforts, “at least the little ones won’t have to worry like this for a long time, huh?”

                “Who knows,” Nishigori said, gently resting an arm on Yuuri’s shoulder as he spoke, “maybe they’ll never have to worry. Maybe this will be the last time…”

                Nishigori, always tall and broad for his age, had a talent for picking on the small, pudgy shy boy until he inflamed Yuuko’s passionate defences of her best friend. He’d later apologised, shyly admitting that he’d only acted to see that spark of anger, having fallen head over heels with her spirit and spitfire personality. After that, they’d been inseparable friends, spending many a youthful day exploring the snowy woods that surrounded the village. Despite their curiosity, they’d never strayed too far from town, never daring to edge too close to the realm on the other side of the grove of pine trees.

                At least, as far as Nishigori and Yuuko knew. There were rare occasions, when he was alone, that the boy had stood at the threshold, peeking between the evergreens into the distance to the spring green glade that delineated the kingdoms of man and the world of the immortals. He’d never seen that much green in his life, only knowing the pines and the occasional specks of greenery from the plants that were hardy enough to survive the ice and snow.

                “I appreciate the optimism,” Yuuri said as Mari doted on the little ones, pulling sweet red glazed berries from her sleeves and sneaking them to the children while their parents were distracted, “but I wouldn’t count on it. I doubt the trend that lasted some three hundred years now will suddenly break because someone from sleepy little Hasetsu climbed that mountain.”

                Yuuko and Nishigori softened their eyes as the summoning bell rang clear and loud, warning every eligible member of the village to gather in the square. All people, man and woman alike, who were old enough, unwed, and not currently dying of illness were to gather to the centre of the village, gathering in the paved plaza. There, a large tree grew, supposedly the first one in the entire forest, a seedling that had been planted there by the _Sun God_ himself, carried from the eternal glen. At its large, gnarled roots stood three persons: the mayor, hunched and wizened through the years, a representative of the Sagan royal court in his bright silk garb and a priest from the shrine on the edge of the forest. No one in the village ever saw the congregation from the shrine unless it was the lottery, and even then, only the unfortunate soul whose name had been drawn would ever get to speak to any of them.

                That being said, the man was a lot younger than Yuuri would have imagined one of the emissaries to the Gods being, looking very close to his age. His skin was a deep, rich brown which seemed to radiate warmth in the winter air. His hair was black and shiny, and his dark grey eyes almost looked like the clouds above them. He was dressed in the modest black robes of the monks and was looking around nervously at the crowd, seemingly trying to flash a reassuring smile in their direction.

                “Thank you all for gathering here,” The mayor spoke calmly, in a smooth, deep voice. Despite his age, he was still a good orator, his voice calming and confident. He was a fair, honest man who cared deeply about everyone in the village, “I understand that this is a huge sacrifice to ask of you. May the Gods watch over your union and give you strength and courage to undergo your trials. You shall be remembered and loved by all of us, we thank you dearly and wish you luck on the journey you shall undertake.”

                Comparatively, the royal representative seemed impersonal, cold as he spoke. “When your name is spoken, please step forward. Your name will be selected from a list of every eligible candidate, the selection is entirely randomised. Failure to comply to selection will be punished by law...”

                Yuuri looked at Mari and whispered, trying to chase the expression of tension and fear from her brow, “are you sure you don’t want to marry the Medicine House? I’m sure we could have someone make some quick official marriage papers, they never need to know Yu-Topia is a building and not a person.”

                Mari stifled a laugh, gently elbowing him in the side for his trouble as they listened to the droning man explain the potential punishments waiting in store for potential deserters, discuss the important nature of the task at hand, the reason they were all gathered there on that silent morning…

                Everyone had heard the legends, passed on through the generations for three hundred years. _The Sun God, Nikifor_ , had fallen in love with a woman from the village at the bottom of the mountain range that separated the continent. No one specified the name of the village, but there were those in Hasetsu who claimed that the unnamed maiden hailed from this very place. Regardless of the true nature of her origins, he courted her for years, apparently bringing down blooms from the mountain, sharing with her the songs of the elder beings, dancing with her in the moonlight until finally she too fell in love. From their union, a small child was born, _Nikiforov_. The boy was kept in a palace at the top of the mountain, where he lived in peace until the Sun God’s Wife, the _Harvest Goddess Lilia_ had discovered the fruit of their union. To punish her unfaithful husband, she’d frozen the baby’s heart, encasing it in a layer of snow and ice, plunging the surrounding four kingdoms; Saga, Olmova, Aalbar, and Nastraya into a ceaseless winter.  Since then, every year, the mortal kingdoms sent a bride up the mountain to thaw the _Winter Prince_ ’s frozen heart, and every year they failed.

                Over three hundred people had walked up the side of the mountain of the gods, only to have their hearts devoured in turn by the prince.

                And now one of the people huddled in the square, dressed in their brightest garb, would be joining those poor lost souls. Yuuri felt a shiver travel down his spine as the man’s speech came to a close. From there, he would reach into the dark wooden box he was holding and pull out one of the many names it contained, each written in a delicate hand on a thick piece of parchment. Yuuri watched the man’s long, skeletal fingers open the clasp and read from the tiny scroll he’d pulled out.

                Despite being spoken in the same aloof, detached monotone he’d been speaking in the whole time, the words stabbed Yuuri in the heart as he heard them.

                “Yuuri of the clan Katsuki, please step forward.”

                Yuuri stepped forward as he felt Mari’s hands desperately clutch at the back of his sleeve. He shook her off emotionlessly, his movements mechanical and slow as he made his way to the front of the crowd, the familiar faces around him blurring as they parted to let him pass. He knew they were probably relieved, guilty, ashamed as he walked by, his geta clattering rhythmically against the paving stones as he walked ahead. From the sky, a few errant snowflakes fell, catching in his dark hair and eyelashes.

                He stopped in front of the mayor, who nodded gravely as he handed the small paper roll to him. His name, his identity, his history.

                His most valuable possession.

                From there, he turned to the grey-eyed monk, who gave him a melancholic smile. He would have a few moments to say his goodbyes to his friends and family before accompanying him to the temple to be blessed for the voyage.

                He barely heard the mayor as he dismissed the crowd, which started scattering as people returned to their homes, some to mourn, some to pray, some to celebrate that their children, brothers, sisters, were safe for another cycle. His name would be on their lips for a moment as they raised their glasses to him, wishing him well in hushed voices.

                Mari ran forward, wrapping her arms around him as his parents followed quickly, accompanied by the Nishigori family. In all these years, he had never seen his sister cry and yet, he felt her heavy sobs. She’d always been strong, carrying the burden of healing the sick, ushering the dying out of their suffering on their deathbeds, cooking and cleaning and maintaining the Medicine house… This was what broke her. The fear of loss.

                He gently wrapped his arms around her as he looked into his mother and father’s eyes. His mother’s brimming with tears, his father’s tired and afraid. Until now, he’d never realised just how small they all were. They’d all seemed so strong in their dedication and love, bravely standing against the winter cold and death…

                They had seemed inhuman to him, like demigods in their own right.

                As he cradled his parents in his arms, in turn, Yuuko stood silent, her hands clamped around her husband’s large, powerful ones. The older man smiled warmly at him, his eyes brave as he offered sympathies to him, promising to help Hiroko, Toshiyo and Mari with their duties as much as he could. Yuuri was thankful for the other man’s strength in hiding his emotions.

                Finally, Yuuko looked him in the eye, her dark eyes simmering with hot embers, totally contrary to her usual cheerful and bubbly demeanour. The spark of fire that she'd reserved for protecting her loved ones burned strongly as she simply held him close, her body stiff and determined. As she pulled back from the intense embrace, she whispered in his ear, subtly handing him a metal object.

                “If you have to, kill him…” she said, her voice deep and bitter as she murmured, “don’t let him eat your heart, Yuuri Katsuki.”

                He palmed the dagger she’d slipped into his hands. He instantly recognised Nishigori's handiwork. It was an intricately made weapon, as ornamental as it was deadly. The silvery blade shone as though it had been crafted from moonlight. The hilt was dark bronze, almost black, but with a hidden vein of warmth as it drank in the daylight. Inlaid in the centre of the handle was a gleaming, adularescent piece of polished moonstone, pale blue and unearthly in its glow. He nodded, hiding it in the fabric of his sleeve.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, from the mind that brought you _the soft apocalypse sci-fi mindscrew AU no one asked for_ and the _dark comedy vampire urban fantasy AU no one asked for_ comes the _high fantasy fairytale/ mythology themed AU no one asked for_!
> 
> (if those seem up your alley check 'em out!)
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this, it's a nice change of pace, to say the least!
> 
> some worldbuilding notes for the chapter:  
> \- the world this takes place in is actually on a Pangea-type mono continent split down the centre by a long mountain range. On the left are the four human kingdoms listed in the chapter, and on the right are the kingdoms of the gods/ immortals.  
> \- the kingdoms are split into city-states, sovereign micronations, etc. so they're not quite huge cultural monoliths.  
> \- Saga as a continent is vaguely based on ancient Asian cultures but is still at its heart a fantasy land where things are made up ha ha.  
> \- the immortals/ gods in this verse are all sort of greco-roman in their personalities in that they are flawed beings with their own wants and desires on top of the domains the control.


	2. Funeral Gown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri leaves Hasetsu in order to be anointed before his journey up the mountain and makes a friend along the way.

                The young priest gently laid a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, his grey eyes surprisingly gentle as he smiled sympathetically.

                “We must be making our way to the temple if we are to make it there by nightfall.” He said, his voice was warm, with a slightly musical quality to it as he spoke with a trace of an accent Yuuri could not place. If the warm rays of the sun had a voice, Yuuri was sure this is how they would sound.

                “Right.” Yuuri said softly, flashing a last brave smile to his friends and family, “I’ll see you all in a year.”

                He turned around quickly, hiding the tears that stung at the corner of his eyes as he followed the priest to a small, modest cart, which had once been painted white judging by the weathered, peeling paint. The priest gently stroked the muzzle of the black horse at the reins before climbing on, patting the red cushion next to him as if to invite Yuuri aboard. Yuuri quickly climbed on as he waved goodbye to Hasetsu one last time, watching the village shrink in the distance as they embarked on the winding trail that went into the woods. The shrine was a few hours away, situated even closer to the glade than he’d ever been.

                “You can cry now if you want Mr.Katsuki,” The man said after a few moments of silence, “the sound won’t carry all the way to your village. You are very brave.”

                Yuuri shook his head, “I’ll be alright… please, call me Yuuri.”

                “I’m very sorry, I presumed based on your dress… is it Ms.Katsuki, or perhaps, Mx.Katsuki?” The priest said, his cheeks blushing slightly with embarrassment.

                “Oh, no it’s not that. It’s Mr… It’s just that Mr.Katsuki feels a bit too formal,” Yuuri replied, waving dismissively as he spoke, slightly flustered. “Just Yuuri is alright.”

                “Ah I see,” the Priest replied, furrowing his brows in concentration, “my name is Phichit Chulanont. I’m from the island of Shae Thaye, not too far from the border of Saga and Aalbar, so my knowledge of the mainland’s etiquette is a bit lacking. I thought it was common practice to refer to people on a last name basis…”

                “It is, it’s just that you usually don’t really have to do it with close friends,” Yuuri said a shrug, trying to explain things but blundering his words as he spoke, “and I figure you’re as close a friend as I’ll have.”

                Phichit smiled brightly. The young man seemed to smile with his entire body, his cheeks creasing up to his eyes, forcing them to shut as he cocked his head, “I appreciate that very much, Yuuri. You seem very kind. Please, feel free to call me Phichit.”

                “It’s nothing, Phichit,” he said, shaking a few snowflakes from his hair, “this shrine is quite far from Shae Thaye, isn’t it… if you don’t mind, is there any particular reason you’re so far from home?”

                “It’s nothing particularly interesting,” Phichit said, resting an index finger on his chin as he spoke, looking as though no one had really bothered asking him the question in the past, “I came here for my pilgrimage, since I was done my tutelage at fifteen at the Iiscia, the shrine by the sea… I’ve been training as an oracle for a while so my brothers suggested I go to the shrine by the mountain, closer to the territory of the immortals.”

                “Training as an oracle?” Yuuri asked, genuinely impressed. An oracle from the shrine had once visited Hasetsu during an outbreak of a particularly terrible stomach flu when he was young, but she had been old and frail, a tiny little old woman who could barely move as she used the liver of a waterbird to divine that the illness would soon pass. “That’s incredible!”

                The other man smiled modestly as he shook his head, “I’m still training of course. If you would like, after the anointing process I could try to read your fortunes.”

                “I would quite like that…” Yuuri said with a soft smile, glad that he had at least found a pleasant companion to make the voyage less unbearable.

                After a long while passed in quiet, reflective company, Yuuri finally saw the large red gates of the shrine, tall and imposing amongst the dead trees and evergreens. The crimson hue looked almost too bright to be real as the gates seemed to reach up to the sky. Over next to the modest temple was the division line, clearer than Yuuri had ever seen, the border between the land of the Gods and the land of man. He swallowed, realising that he could stand in between the two realms almost seamlessly from here.

                That would be later.

                The cart pulled into a stable, accompanying two similarly worn ones. A gloomy looking monk gently took the reins in his hands, leading the black horse to rest within the dry stables. He looked like the polar opposite of Phichit, his skin pale, his brows heavy over black eyes, his face slightly dour as he nodded at Yuuri in acknowledgement.

                “Brother Lee might seem serious and disinterested…” Phichit whispered as the young man lead them wordlessly to the prayer chamber nestled behind the main façade of the temple, “but it’s just because he’s shy. You should see him when he gets into the reserves. Not a bad kisser, not at all.”

                Yuuri blushed slightly at the casual nature of Phichit’s statement. He had always heard that though the men and women of the temple were devout, they were most certainly not chaste, but he’d always had this image of the priests and priestesses as being stoic and detached. The idea of the monks letting loose on arrowroot beer and berry wine, dancing and singing and kissing seemed a little absurd to him.

                The man slowly entered opened the large, intricately carved doors of the prayer room, shaking some snow off Yuuri’s shoulders as he silently beckoned them inside. He felt the tips of his ears prickle as he tried to chase away the mental image of bright, sunny, Phichit locking lips with the pale, stoic man.

                He’d always known that sort of thing was possible, of course, especially since he was currently expected to serve as the male bride of the Winter Prince. Still, he hadn’t particularly given much thought to it. He’d never really figured it was strange or off-putting, like some people in the village had, but at the same time it was not something he was overly familiar with, especially not in regards with himself. He supposed that at one point he’d felt some vague adolescent stirrings for Yuuko, as well as Takeshi, but he always assumed that those gentle pangs of longing and nightly visions were merely the result of proximity, friendly fondness for the pair.

                He’d certainly never really considered kissing either of them, especially not since they were currently husband and wife. There was once a moment on a milder day years ago when they’d spent the afternoon ice-fishing in the river that flowed a few kilometres away from the village with very little success, where the three of them had almost, not quite, breached the unspoken tension that hung in the air… gently brushing their fingers over each other’s hands, standing a bit too close for comfort as Yuuri felt the gentle warmth of Yuuko’s breath on his shoulder and Nishigori’s powerful arm around his waist, but Yuuri had decided against it at the last moment, feigning a fever spell.

                He shook his head, chasing away the memory. He looked inside the chamber, squinting slightly in the dimly lit space. It was surprisingly plain, with dark walls of stained wood and simple cloth banners hung in front of an altar. It was an intimate space, lit with a few oil lanterns that made the space seem even smaller and cosier.

                This was the room where special ceremonies and intense fasting prayers were undertaken. A highly sacred room seen by very few. On the altar was a small sapling, a branch cut from a tree that had crossed into the land of men from beyond the snow and ice, seemingly never dying, its leaves still unfurled and bright green as if beckoning the light. It filled Yuuri simultaneously with dread and reverence as his eyes fell on two younger members of the congregation, one short and slight, with pale skin and chestnut hair, his companion taller, slightly older looking with thick brows, a warm tan and darker brown hair, tied back in a short bun. They smiled warmly as Yuuri and Phichit entered the chamber, the man Phichit had called “Brother Lee” closing the heavy doors behind them.

                “Brothers Ji, De La Iglesia this is Yuuri Katsuki of Hasetsu. We have been asked to anoint him for his voyage to the Country of the Gods.” He spoke, his voice slightly more serious as he explained their holy purpose, “Don’t worry Yuuri. It won’t take long, we’re experts.”

                “Of course…” Yuuri said as he was lead close to the altar. The smaller of the men gently held the soft green branch and waved it overhead to cleanse their energies as the ritual commenced. The ritual itself was simultaneously familiar and extremely unusual as the men prayed over him, occasionally burning cleansing incense which filled the chamber with strong smelling smoke, making Yuuri’s eyelids feel droopy and his head feel fuzzy. Phichit gently dabbed a simple sigil in a bright smelling pine oil on his forehead, giving him a friendly smile before hardening his face once more.

                After a while, he was asked to rise. The long-haired man brought him a fresh new kimono to replace the deep blue yukata he had been wearing. He felt a gentle pang of melancholy as they peeled his garments away, realising that it had been the last vestige of home. He watched as they meticulously dressed him in a pale, almost unnaturally white kimono. He felt a strange sadness welling in his heart as they gently folded it over his left breast.

                Funeral wear.

                He smiled weakly as the men pulled back with a final prayer.

                “I’ll have brothers Ji and De La Iglesia fetch you a futon. It’s customary that you spend the night in this room. Tomorrow morning, we will bring you to the guide who will lead you up the mountain,” Phichit said softly as he gestured slowly towards the door, the other men nodded and exited the chamber in small, purposeful steps. “If you wish, I can stay with you, keep you company.”

                Yuuri nodded, not wanting to be alone with his thoughts…

                Phichit smiled once more, clapping excitedly, “of course, they always ask us to stay so don’t be surprised if they already decided to bring me a futon too.”

                Yuuri blinked in surprise, realising that he hadn’t been the first person Phichit had ushered into the beyond. Despite his youthful looks and affable manner, Yuuri realised that he saw a tinge of sadness and regret in those grey eyes.

                “How many times have you done this before, Phichit?” Yuuri asked gently.

                Phichit stopped for a moment, his eyes getting slightly cloudier as he looked into Yuuri’s dark brown ones before sinking to the floor, “usually they don’t worry about me, Yuuri. I’ll be alright if that’s what you were asking in a roundabout manner… You’re the fifth person I’ve anointed, the fifth person I will walk to the edge of the glen and, I’m not saying this to be hopeless or cruel, but probably not the last person I will watch walk up that mountain with no intent of returning. Ever since I was 15, Yuuri, I have watched men and women walk up that path and never seen them return.”

                “That must be difficult…” Yuuri said, gently running his hand over Phichit’s cheek. There was something genuinely painful about seeing this man who was full of joy and life suddenly look so lost. His grey eyes flitted up for a moment, locking on his own. “I will do it, I’ll put an end to it.”

                “That’s the spirit,” The man said, a smile slowly creeping back onto his face as he gently rested his hand on Yuuri’s. It was soft and warm, still scented with the fresh and woodsy smell of pine oil. Yuuri closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling the familiar scent. It reminded him of home, of the woods he’d once called his own, the trees he would root under, pulling out heavily scented medicinal herbs that hid amongst the robust roots of the evergreens.

                His reveries were interrupted by the sound of the doors, the two boys had returned, carting thick, soft futons, pillows and blankets behind them. They made short work of laying them out in the small, sparse space. Behind them, the stern-faced monk who had greeted them at the stable returned with two bowls of a thin broth, filled with chopped carrot, rice and taro root. Small, dried mushrooms floated on top as the warm, hearty scent filled the small room, making Yuuri’s stomach growl.

                He hadn’t eaten since their breakfast that morning, and despite the warm, filling meal that had been set out in front of him then he hadn’t been able to work up much of an appetite and hadn’t eaten much as a result. Of course, that wasn’t much of a problem, he supposed. His figure was anything but trim, a soft, plush layer of roundness sat on top of his muscles, which were actually quite strong thanks to his thankless schedule and the daily operations of the Medicine House.

                Yuuri could’ve sworn he saw something of a smile quirk onto the otherwise stoic face of the thick-browed monk as he laid out the bowls of soup. “Good night, Yuuri Katsuki from Hasetsu. Do not worry about Brother Chulanont, his hands shan’t wander unless you ask them to. May the Gods bless your union and your mind’s waters be untroubled.”

                Yuuri blushed as he watched the man leave, the other boys in tow. The words had been spoken in jest, presumably, especially considering that he was to be wed to the Winter Prince in twenty-four hours, but regardless they had caused a gentle rush of warmth to grace his cheeks.

                “Please remember that brothers Minami and Ji are not to be let into the reserves,” Phichit yelled at the other man’s back, his voice jovial, “and remind brother Minami that his ban extends to and includes the berry wine.”

                He watched the dark head of hair shake with a nod. The door closed behind him, and once again they were alone. They ate in silence, the warm broth soothing Yuuri’s soul somewhat. It wasn’t the same as his mother’s hearty cuisine, but the food was still quite nice.

                “We don’t eat meat as part of our devotions,” Phichit explained as Yuuri set down the bowl, “except for once a year for a week in the autumn, as our devotion to _Otabek, the Hunter_. Honestly, when your stomach has subsided on nought but taro, mushrooms and nuts, rabbit and deer sit heavy in your guts. The younger brothers and sisters always get so sick… it’s hilarious.”

                Yuuri shook his head with a smile. The other man’s levity and mischievous streak had a way of instantly endearing people to him. Had Phichit not chosen a life of piety, he could’ve easily snuck his way into the royal courts. Yuuri dared not suggest it though.

                “Do you still want me to tell your fortunes, Yuuri?” He said, a crafty glint in his eye as he spoke, as though despite cultivating this talent he did not get the opportunity to show it off very often.

                “Absolutely,” Yuuri said with a nod, deftly curious to see if the Gods favoured him or not. He knew that the readings from divination were incredibly vague and not set in stone, but knowing a little of what lied ahead would probably soothe his mind.

                Or so he hoped.

                In wide-eyed shock, he watched as Phichit stretched out his arm, gently shaking out the sleeve of his oversized robes. There, from the folds of fabric, came three fat, slightly sleepy looking rodents. They were strange, soft looking things with chubby little legs and no tails. These animals were vaguely similar to but also entirely different from the rats and mice that Yuuri was used to seeing in Saga. Yuuri looked at Phichit in confusion as the small animals drearily woke up, sniffing the air and crawling around curiously.

                “Hamsters, from Nastraya… Let’s see what they think about your fortunes, Yuuri…” He muttered as he gently laid out a series of strange, foreign seeds and berries he’d dug out of the folds of fabric on his robes. Finally, he scooped up the fat, fluffy things and gently placed them in front of the layout. He watched them with an intense expression, making strange humming noises as the animals picked up the seeds and shoved them within their large cheeks. Finally, when the last of the materials had been stowed away, he scooped them back up, giving them loving pats on the head as he gently tucked them back into their apparent nest within his clothing.

                “So, what did the uh, _am stairs_ , say about my fortunes, then?” Yuuri asked, quirking his head. He was pretty sure divination via small, chubby mammal was odd even by oracle standards.

                “Well,” Phichit said, rubbing his chin pensively, “You will not walk down the mountain, but you will not die in the Winter Prince’s castle either.”

                Eventually, they decided it was best for Yuuri to retire, needing the energy for the long voyage ahead. Sleep did not come as he laid there in the dark chamber, his eyes closed despite the fact that he did not drift off…

                Phichit’s words echoed in his mind.

                _You will not walk down the mountain, but you will not die in the Winter Prince’s castle either._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some worldbuilding notes from this one:  
> \- Yuuri was exaggerating a bit when he said they _never_ see members of the congregation in the village, but it _is_ incredibly rare for them to leave the shrine. If they do, it's usually not a good occasion. It probably only happened once or twice in his lifetime, excluding this meeting.  
>  \- his suspicion about divination via Hamsters being odd even by the standards of oracles is absolutely correct though. However, divining via the use of organs is actually a real thing people do (usually involving the thickness of various parts of an animal's spleen. eek!)  
> \- There are male, non-binary and female members of the congregation, but Yuuri only had males perform the ceremony because they figured he would be most comfortable with that since the rites involve undressing and redressing. As for why they expected the next bride to be a man... well, Phichit's hammies told them!


	3. Into the Glade and Up the Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri finally crosses over into the Realm of the Ancients, guided up the mountainside by a friendly envoy who is most certainly not human.

                At some point over the course of the night, Yuuri’s anxious thoughts had lent their way to an agitated, restless sleep. His lashes fluttered open as he sat up on the soft futon, listening to the harsh cries of the crows outside. Although there were no windows within the ceremonial chamber, he knew that it must be quite early. Phichit, during Yuuri’s dreamless sleep, had managed to sneak out of the chamber and bring him a breakfast of arrowroot bread with acorns baked inside and pine tea. He sipped the warm tea slowly as he tried to gather his thoughts, still dazed by the fact that the situation was not some sort of twisted nightmare.

                Making quick work of his breakfast, he decided to rise. Slowly making his way to the heavy doors, pushing them open and squinting into the cool, dark air. It was slightly colder than the day before, his breath hung in front of him in hazy clouds in the blue light as he watched a warm streak of bright orange creep over the horizon, preparing to chase away the carpet of stars above him.

                “You’re awake then,” He heard Phichit say as he walked towards Yuuri. His face seemed surprisingly sombre, seemingly troubling thoughts playing out behind his eyes. “I was to wake you, but I figured you would enjoy a few more hours to try to rest.”

                “I appreciate it, thank you very much,” Yuuri said gratefully, knowing that it was as much for Phichit’s benefit as for his own, “thank you for the breakfast as well, it was very good.”

                “It’s not much, but it’s what we usually eat,” Phichit gently said with a thin smile, “the guide should be waiting at the edge of the trail that passes through the glade and up the mountain if you are prepared to go join him.”

                Yuuri nodded gravely, knowing that it was best not to let an envoy of the Gods waiting. Despite his fear and his pounding heart, this was his duty, not only to the kingdoms but to his family… besides, if Phichit’s divinations were anything to go from, he would supposedly survive the experience. Perhaps, he would be able to succeed where none had in the past. He walked slowly behind the monk, realising that the snow felt cold on his bare feet, biting at his skin as he sunk slightly with each step. He was about to ask if he could have his geta back but then realised that he had no idea what was done to the personal effects of those who entered the grove. Slowly, a flash of spring green, still contrasting sharply against the flat, harsh lifeless white of the snow even in the low light, entered Yuuri’s field of vision. There, at the edge of the snaking trail that lead up to the palace, stood a man.

                At least, Yuuri was certain that the figure standing at the base of the mountain was a man. He knew that creatures such as this one existed, having heard the tales of the immortals and beings that dwelt in the lands of the Gods like all inhabitants of the kingdoms had, but seeing one in front of his own eyes was something shocking. The man was beautiful, with short cropped hair the colour of sunlight which gently fell over a layer of shorter, darker hair underneath. His eyes seemed to twinkle even in the dim light of daybreak, bright green like the glade itself. His face was handsome in a boyish way and his smile had an inviting quality to it.

                However, the most spectacular quality of the man were the long, dark horns that curled away from his face, gleaming with a keratinous sheen like a raven’s feathers. His legs, powerful and slender under a fine tunic of blue and silver, were those of a mountain goat, covered in thick, coarse, dark fur that fanned out elegantly over large, cloven hooves. Yuuri swallowed, realising that beings as otherworldly and beautiful as this one were probably commonplace once he’d stepped over the limits of humanity.

                Phichit gave his hand a gentle squeeze as his warm grey eyes met with the goatman on the mountain. It was time for Yuuri to make his final exit from the world of man.

                Before he did, however, the priest pulled him back, his fingers clutching on the white fabric of his fine kimono. He made an inquisitive noise before realising the intention of the movement. Phichit had leant in gently, brushing his warm, soft lips over Yuuri’s in a final embrace. Yuuri, startled by the sudden contact, fell into the kiss, which was soft and chaste, his heart fluttering slightly at the suddenness of it all. Not quite a mere show of affection between friends, but not a romantic contact either. It was, rather, something with a purpose. He felt Phichit’s fingers fumble slightly at Yuuri’s chest slipping something discreetly into the folded white fabric over his breast.

                Yuuko’s dagger, along with the small paper scroll on which his name was written had been secured in between layers of silky cloth. His last two earthly possessions somehow rescued and returned to him despite the will of the Gods and the potential wrath those actions would incur against the priest. At that moment, he felt Phichit’s deep love and knew that no matter what transpired, he would be forever in the other man’s debt, bound by friendship and fate. He pulled back with a small nod and a smile of acknowledgement. He wrapped his arms around the other man, holding him for a moment, inhaling the scent of the woods and pine trees, the scent of home.

                “Not quite as good as Brother Lee, but I appreciated it nonetheless, my friend. May the Gods bless your union and smile upon you...” Phichit said with a weak smile, finally letting go and allowing him to turn to the mountain at last.

                He walked towards the mountain with small, purposeful steps as his heart pounded in his ears, drowning out even the throaty cries of the crows in the skeletal dead trees around him. Finally, after all these years, the draw of the mountain, of the sprawling green carpet of vegetation, of the scent of flowers in the dim twilight, of the call of the strange wilderness was finally pulling him in as it had threatened to for all these years. It was everything he’d always wanted and yet, everything he’d always feared. He toed the line, looking over at the sleepy temple, still and silent in the pale light of dawn, one last time before joining the otherworldly guide on the other side of the threshold.

                Yuuri almost gasped as his feet touched the ground, soft earth and grasses gently caressing the bare skin. The ground was soft and warm as his toes dug into the forest floor, like nothing he’d ever felt before. The air was warm and fragrant with the scent of verdant growth and spring blossoms, full of birdsong and the sounds of leaves in the soft breeze. Nature here was awake, alive, entirely different to the slumbering cold just a few feet away.

                “That was quite different,” The guide spoke, his voice warm and soft, like a gentle gust of wind through the rustling tree branches, “farewells aren’t quite as affectionate normally. You and that young man must share a special bond.”

                Yuuri nodded, his senses still overwhelmed by the life around him. Closer to the man, he could make out a dark stubble which, along with those strangely slit pupils in his glimmering green eyes, made him look more feral and wild than he did from the safety of the temple. His form was lithe and muscular, powerful in the same way a predatory animal was, which made Yuuri feel slightly anxious. He stood a good head taller than him, but this was no surprise as Yuuri had always assumed the immortals would be awe-inspiring larger-than-life beings. Despite his imposing presence the creature’s smile still pulled gently at his cheeks, inviting and genuine as he spoke.

                “It’s alright, it’s quite a change from the mortal realm, feel free to take some time to adjust…” The horned stranger said, stretching his long limbs as though to prepare for the journey ahead, “you are from Saga, correct? It is amongst my favourite of the kingdoms, you always wear such lovely, tasteful garments on your way over to the palace.”

                Yuuri eyed the stranger with caution. If one was unaware of the significance of the pure white cloth, the implications of the gentle fold over the left side of the chest, tracing a sharp line crossing over the heart, Yuuri could imagine the kimono the Sagan tributes wore looking quite beautiful. Likewise, the man’s dress was surprisingly understated, a simple, flowing tunic, dropping away from his bare shoulders, the colour of the sky on a cloudless day, with sparse silver decorations at the hem. Yuuri had always assumed that the ancients would favour showier wear, worthy of their lofty position. However, this particular uniform was even more understated than some of the clothing he’d seen in depictions of the Sagan royal court.

                There was something elegant to the understated design, as though the man wearing it was already assured of his worth, and decided to be practical instead. He decided that, despite everything, he would trust his guide for now. He bowed his head in a reverent greeting. “Thank you, Sir Fawn. Please take care of me.”

                The man’s eyes twinkled with delight as he laughed airily, “you needn’t be so formal, Yuuri Katsuki of Hasetsu. I am but a humble servant of the court of Nikiforov, after all… please, call me Christophe. It should be easier for your human tongue.”

                “Alright, Christophe.” Yuuri replied, trying to calm his racing heart at the mention of the name of his future husband to be, “please show me the way.”

                “Very well, Yuuri Katsuki of Hasetsu. It should be a short few hours walk up the paved mountain path. Before we depart, please eat this,” he said, reaching into the pocket on his breast and taking out what appeared to be a thin wafer of bread, delicate and entirely unlike the dense arrowroot loaves Yuuri was used to. He gently tended his outstretched hand towards Yuuri, the circular disk lying in the palm of his hand.

                Yuuri gingerly picked up the piece of bread, noting that it was quite hard and unleavened. He eyed it curiously as he flipped it a few times between his fingertips, observing it for anything particular or unusual. Finally, after figuring that it was merely a piece of bread and nothing sinister, he lifted it to his lips and ate.

                As he did, a warm sensation tingled in his chest, spreading to his limbs and pooling in his extremities. He gasped sharply, the air dreadfully hot as it entered his lungs. He stared at the glen, the plants and animals around him seemingly spiralling in a chaotic green miasma as he held his head, breathing hard. Why was it so difficult to get air to his lungs? His heart was pounding harder than it ever had, tight and wild in his chest, as though it was attempting to break free of his ribs and puncture his skin to escape the pain. His eyes burned with burning tears, feeling as though every fluid in his body were boiling upon contact with the slightly golden light of dawn.

                And then everything settled back to the way it was, his mouth and throat dry as he panted, desperate to catch his breath and still his trembling limbs. His eyes snapped to the guide, full of fear and betrayal as they locked onto a sympathetic, pitying expression. “What did you just do to me, Christophe?”

                “You’ve been granted protection by Lord Nikiforov,” The fawn said slowly, his voice soft and gentle as though he understood the sheer shock and pain that had accompanied the last few moments, “nothing in this glade will be able to hurt you as long as you remain on his lands; not man, nor beast, nor God. None shall dare damage that to which the lord has laid claim… You are safe for lack of the better word.”

                 Yuuri felt a cold shiver down his spine as the words _that to which the lord has laid claim_ echoed in his mind. It was final, he had been claimed as the bride of a creature he’d never met, never even seen. A being he’d only heard about in hushed whispers around the hearth as mother told him and Mari the legends of the elder gods so many years ago....

 _Claimed_ … like an object, like a commodity, like a piece of property that was up for dispute.

                The satyr gently placed a hand on his shoulder, allowing Yuuri to notice that Christophe had hard, hoof-like growths on the tips of his three-fingered hands in the place of fingernails. He smiled warmly, but this time the smile did not quite reach his eyes as he looked upon Yuuri with an air of concern and pity, as though he were a teacher who was faced with a particularly challenging pupil. It made Yuuri’s skin go hot as he averted his eyes, feeling rather small and unimportant.

                “Should we make our way up the mountain, Christophe?” He asked quietly, feeling an uncharacteristic bitterness and shame welling below his heart, pooling in his stomach, “surely I shouldn’t keep his lordship, my new husband-to-be, waiting.”

                The fawn nodded, apparently deciding not to comment on the slightly sharp tone Yuuri had employed as he made his way up the mountain, his hooved feet clopping against the ancient flat paving stones that had been laid on the overgrown pass. The stones felt smooth and warm against Yuuri’s feet as he followed, enjoying the new sensation of a warm spring morning, watching the sun slowly creep higher into the sky and paint the world in a wide variety of vibrant hues of green. Despite everything that was happening, finally being amongst the greenery he’d admired so often in his youth was exhilarating. He found his breath catch in his throat as he drank in the opening of the blossoms on the branches of fruit-bearing trees, the unfurling of leaves from their buds, the creeping vines and saplings crawling along the trunks of taller plants to reach the sun.

                Finally, after about an hour’s march, the guide handed him a flask of fresh water. Yuuri gratefully took the flask, drinking in long, desperate gulps. His throat was still incredibly dry, and anxiety seemed to have stopped him from forming saliva. Christophe smiled gently at him as he drank, finally handing back the flask with a sharp gasp.

                “It might seem unfair, and on some level, it is…” Christophe said as he stowed the silver flask in his pocket, “but I am certain that if you go into it as frightened and bitter as you are right now, things will not progress. None of us like this, Yuuri of the clan Katsuki, but believe me when I say that the master is many things, but a cruel and vicious man is not one of those things. Please, try to keep your mind and heart open.”

                “That’s difficult to believe when so many people have walked up this path before me, Christophe…” Yuuri said with a sigh. He understood that the fawn was right on some level, that going into this with a dark and closed soul would not be effective for helping him nor his people, but on another level, the whole affair was incredibly unfair. Treating human lives like tokens was unjust, “if it were your people forced to lose one of their own every year you wouldn’t be so fast to defend it.”

                “We tried,” Christophe said sombrely, shaking his horned head as he spoke, “but the curse specifies that his heart is to be thawed by a mortal’s love... Mutual, all-encompassing, selfless, sacrificing love from both the lord and the lord’s lover. Regardless of the requirement, it’s well known in the kingdoms of the gods that mortals have always been better at truly loving with their entire being than we have.”

                The realisation hit Yuuri quite hard, all this time he’d thought that humans were sent to the palace since they were seen as disposable beings, ephemeral things that died anyway.

_Mortals are better at loving than the ancients? That doesn’t make any sense…_

                As if sensing his thoughts, Christophe continued, his green eyes soft behind his dark lashes, “since they have a finite amount of time on this earth, mortals seem to be more capable of opening their hearts to each other. Sacrifice, the ability to put the other’s needs before your own, all that counts for more when you know that one day either you or the one you love will no longer be around to feel it. Despite the risk, you love anyway and that is a purity we can rarely achieve.”

                Yuuri furrowed his brows, digesting Christophe’s words as they walked up the winding path in silence, with nothing but the sounds of birdsong, animal cries and the gentle rustling of leaves in the wind to interrupt his thoughts. Eventually, Yuuri saw the path begin to plateau, the stones less overgrown with weeds and stray grasses, newer and smoother than the slightly coarser ones at the bottom of the mountain. There, in front of them, was the sprawling estate of Lord Nikiforov, the Winter Prince, feared throughout the kingdoms. It was an impressive structure, contained within a gleaming wall of limestone. Beyond the gate was the castle itself, its courtyards and annexed properties safely overlooking the countries of both man and God.

                Yuuri swallowed, steeling himself as the doors opened. He kept his eyes low as he entered the grounds. They made their way into a large entrance hall, wide and well lit. The floor, smooth white marble with veins of gold, felt cool under Yuuri's feet as he absorbed the sheer vastness of the room. The walls matched the floor and were tall, with various tapistries and scrolls hanging upon them. The ceiling, seemingly endlessly high above their heads, was adorned with pale blue paint, replicating the spring skies outside the palace. He had never, in his twenty three years, seen a place such as this. His lips were parted, his eyes wide in wonderment. He was glad, at this moment, that his husband-to-be seemed absent, not wanting to look this foolish and awestruck in front of the man as a first impression.

                “Now, you lucky buck,” Christophe said, his voice and tone much lighter than it had ever been, “you get to be prepared for your audience with his lordship, your-husband-to-be. These dear attendants will be the ones taking care of you… I know many who would give a horn to be in your skin right now.” He added with a wink as he nodded his head to three figures who were descending a staircase towards him. They were all young, fit and beautiful in thin, flowing chitons that seemed to fan and dance around them as they moved towards Yuuri and Christophe, their faces warm and smiling.

                The first of the attendants was a pale young woman with short hair in a dazzling red colour he had never seen before in his life. Her eyes were blue, bright and twinkling as she giggled, nudging the woman next to her with a friendly elbow as though she had said something vaguely inappropriate. Her compatriot contrasted strongly against her, with long sleek black hair that shone like silk and brown skin that seemed to absorb the light with a luminescent glow. Her carefree eyes were a deep violet hue and twinkled. Behind them, smiling brightly at Yuuri with an honest smile was a tall, lanky young man with deep blue eyes and a scruffy face, his hair slightly wild and sandy brown. They were all strangely dazzling in their own right, all adorned with pale silvery tattoos that spiralled up their arms and legs in dainty patterns, catching the light and shimmering in an otherworldly fashion.

                The frost nymphs, not quite gods, but powerful beings regardless. His mouth hung open in awe as they giggled excitedly to Christophe, chattering in a tongue he could not understand, their eyes flitting excitedly between the fawn and himself. He felt like a strange, exotic creature on display.

                Finally, the trio of nymphs turned to him, the black-haired woman speaking in a chipper, friendly tone, laid back, “Hello Yuuri Katsuki from Hasetsu. Come, come, we will take care of you. Don’t be shy!”

                With those words, the three ethereal beings dragged him by his wrists towards what looked like a bathing room. He looked helplessly over his shoulder, swearing he could’ve seen Christophe winking with mischievous green eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more of the worldbuilding notes because we like this sort of thing:  
> \- As Christophe implies, the tributes usually show up in garb pertaining to their culture and ethnic background. As such, the congregation (which dresses them) is quite learned in these manners. As the kingdoms are quite large, the average commoner would not have much access to this information.  
> \- The language of the Ancients, Astralspeak, is hard for humans to pronounce as it includes many sounds and structures not present in the human tongues. As such, they typically adopt human names when dealing with mortals. Many mortals overhearing it claim that it sounds like song.  
> \- The breaded wafer Yuuri eats is a form of contract.
> 
> I'm not sure why the chapter notes from chapter one insist on appearing annexed to every chapter, but you do you AO3.


	4. The First Night Amongst the Gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri gets prepared by the three nymphs, primped and polished until he's presentable and spends his first night in the company of the gods.

                The woman’s grip on his wrist was surprisingly strong as she led him down the corridor, excitedly introducing herself as Sara and her associates as Mila and Emil, respectively. Finally, after a long walk down the hall, they entered the bathing chamber. Once more, Yuuri’s eyes blew open in amazement.

                The room was nothing like the public bathhouse in Hasetsu or the medical baths of Yu-topia. Those had been large, mostly utilitarian spaces, made of wood and filled with steam, sound and the scents of mugwort and other people. This, on the other hand, was a still and silent room, large and sprawling with dark, gleaming marble which shone in the bright sunlight, let in from a large glass ceiling which revealed the clear blue sky above. In the centre of the room was an enormous bath, drawn with clear water, looking pristine as it shimmered in the light. The male attendant, Emil, gently held his hand, leading him to a sprawling couch which rested along the side of the pool as Yuuri stumbled behind him, still dazed by the scope of the room.

                He was immediately snapped out of his wonderment by the sensation of excited hands against his body, peeling away the thick layers of his silk kimono. He made a choked, startled noise as his face ran hot, blushing in a deep crimson hue. He was met, for his efforts, by gleeful laughter as Sara crooned something in the language of the ancients. Yuuri was thankful for the fact that he did not understand what was said, as it netted her another playful elbow to the side from Mila, who rolled her bright blue eyes with a shake of her head and a click of her tongue. They made quick work of their task, leaving Yuuri bare within moments. He hunched his shoulders slightly, feeling small and vulnerable without the many layers of clothing as the cool air of the chamber tickled his skin, causing the hair on his arms to stand on end.

                “She said you are cute and soft, that the lord is lucky to have you,” Emil whispered into Yuuri’s ear with a warm and friendly chuckle, “although I am afraid she was quite… candid in her choice of words. If you do not mind, please lie down so we may begin the process of getting you cleaned up.”

                Yuuri did as he was told, though he did not quite understand why he needed to be cleaned so soon after being anointed by the priests at the base of the mountain. He watched the nymphs with curious eyes, observing as they set about preparing various herbal concoctions and elixirs, filling the space with various pleasantly floral aromas which blended together in a complex perfume that reminded him of the grove around the castle. Emil leant over the couch, spreading a warm purple mixture onto his back and legs. His eyes were soft, almost apologetic as he worked, coating Yuuri’s goosepimpled skin with a smooth coat of matte purple. Yuuri was about to open his mouth to ask what the substance was until the other man laid long strips of gauzy fabric over it and yanked everything off violently.

                Yuuri yelped at the harsh sting, feeling as though every hair on his back and limbs had been pulled out from their follicles. He shuddered, warm tears clouding his vision for a moment. He felt Emil’s warm hands work a soothing, mint scented oil into his tender skin.

                “I’m so sorry…” Emil said with an apologetic smile, “if it makes you feel any better, at least you’re not particularly hirsute. Last year, the lord’s betrothed was a bear-like man from Olmova… he was almost as hairy as Christophe, the poor fellow. Please turn around.”

                Yuuri turned onto his back, watching the man’s hands work more of the waxy purple substance onto his chest, arms and legs. He shuddered as he felt it harden slightly with an oily sheen until the man laid more gauzy strips on top of it, pulling them off with surgical precision and speed. They repeated the process a few times, each ripping tear drawing a sharp hiss from Yuuri’s lungs. Finally, he’d been plucked to satisfaction, as Emil rested his hands on his hips, admiring his handiwork. Yuuri was infinitely thankful that they decided not to get too close to the strip of hair south of his navel, fearing that he might actually cry if they did.

                He rose shakily, helped to his feet by the other man, feeling a chill against his hairless form. He felt exposed, tender and timid like a baby bird whose feathers had yet to grow in. Instinctively, he drew his hands to his lap to hide his shame.

                “Would you feel better were we to unclothe as well, Yuuri of the clan Katsuki?” Sara asked with an impish laugh from her station, mixing a milky elixir of fragrant herbs in a jar as she spoke. “Sometimes it seems to put the mortals at ease…”

                Yuuri shook his head violently, his cheeks flushing a bright red, matching the sore aching skin that had been meticulously worked and manicured. His first instinct would’ve been to wave away the suggestion with his anxious hands, but he was determined not to expose himself further. “I think I’ll be alright, thank you.” He muttered, casting his eyes to the floor.

                “A wise decision, Yuuri Katsuki of Hasetsu,” Mila said as she guided Yuuri into the pool, “Mika would probably murder you in your sleep if he ever learned that you’d set eyes on Sara in any form of undress. Of course, the poor boy always seems to be worrying about the wrong people entirely.”

                He would’ve sworn he caught a glimpse of a shy blush on Sara’s cheeks as Mila gave him a meaningful wink. Then again, maybe he was imagining things as the heavily floral air got to his head. He felt a strange relief as he stepped into the water, which seemed to gently wrap him in a warm embrace. He slowly waded further into the pool, the warm water coming up to his chest as he tried to relax. He felt warm hands scrubbing at his red, inflamed skin, working heavily perfumed oils and lotions into the sensitive flesh. He felt a soft sigh form in the back of his throat as the cooling ointments seemed to draw the pain out of him. He saw Sara approach, smiling as she poured her concoction into his hair, lathering and scrubbing at it, filling his nostrils with the dizzying scent of roses. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever smelled a rose or seen one outside of paintings, but it was reminiscent of the bright red rosehips that grew in the tough shrubs in the woods around his home, which they would often use in medicinal oils over at the Medicine House. It filled him with a slight pang of nostalgia and homesickness.

                After he had been meticulously scrubbed, every possible trace of the outside world removed from his being, he was lead out of the pool once more. He looked down at his form, naked and glowing in the bright light of the afternoon. He was certain that his skin hadn’t looked this clean and flawless since the moment he’d exited the womb, but even then, he couldn’t be certain. He was lead, once more to the long, cushioned sofa with its dark purple pillows and seated. The three attendants went to work, Sara gently running her fingers through his short, coarse hair, pulling his bangs out of his face and styling them into soft waves as Mila painted his face with various cosmetics, carving out his finer features with light and shadow. Emil delicately draped a soft white chiton over a dark undershirt and matching breeches. They worked wordlessly, diligent as they transformed him from a plain, round-faced, boyish young man to something presumably suitable to present to the Winter Prince.

                Finally, as Emil wrapped the thick, luxuriously furred pelt of a creature Yuuri could not recognise around his shoulders, the trio pulled back, smiling fondly at him, their eyes bright as though they were artists pouring over a masterpiece they had finished.

                “Come, come Katsuki, come see!” Sara said excitedly, her voice musical and bubbly like a birdsong, as she beckoned him over to a large silver framed mirror. He stood, awkwardly to his feet, walking slowly over to the mirror as though afraid of what he would see. He lifted his eyes and stood in awe, scarcely believing the man he saw staring back at him.

                The man in the mirror looked entirely different to him, a creature with milky skin that seemed to glow like the moon with shining hair spun from the night sky. His head was adorned with a delicate diadem, curling around his hair like a spring of fresh ivy, shimmering silver leaves radiant against his dark hair. His dark eyes were lined in black and red, looking absolutely giant and filled with starlight behind artificially lengthened lashes. The eyes were clearly meant to be the centre of attention in his face, his parted lips looking understated, like twin flower petals, pale and pink. His body looked almost regal in his finery, camouflaging every soft area he’d been self-conscious about. He was simultaneously demure and fierce, powerful and innocent.

                He looked like he belonged in the kingdom of gods, as though he’d always been a member of the court, as though he’d transcended humanity.

                “Thank you so much,” he said breathlessly, still unable to believe quite what he was seeing, “you’ve done an astounding job.”

                “We’ve only done half the work, Yuuri Katsuki of Hasetsu,” Mila said with a confident smile, “we only drew out what was already there.”

                He smiled weakly as he followed the attendants out of the chamber, remembering the purpose behind his transformation with a heavy heart. He had decided that he would do his very best to approach the situation with an open mind, as Christophe had suggested. After all, this was his only chance to help save his people, and who was he to shirk his duty to the people of the kingdoms, not to mention that perhaps he could help the demigod as well.

                It was a strange thought, one he’d never dared voice aloud, especially not amongst his fellow mortals in Hasetsu, but when he’d first heard the legends as a child, he always felt slightly sad at the fate of the winter prince. He instinctively pitied the man, wondering how it must feel to have your heart encased in a thick layer of permafrost, hard, frozen and devoid of life, to be incapable of allowing things to grow. Though he was the monster feared and loathed throughout the kingdom for the inevitable heartache he caused to those living in the shadow of the mountain, it was not his fault, not truly. He’d been punished for the sins of another, and thus was slightly lamentable in his own right. He’d always held a slight glimmer of hope that perhaps someone would be able to thaw the creature’s heart, teach him to feel and accept love.

                Perhaps, he thought as he followed his envoy through the large and empty corridors of the castle, he could be that person. He doubted it since many of his betters had attempted and failed this task, and he was a mere healer from a tiny village nestled in the corner of the world, but still, it never hurt to try.

                They’d arrived at their destination sooner than Yuuri had expected, a long, sprawling hall with heavily drawn blue curtains over the windows, giving it a dark and foreboding feeling. He felt his chest tighten as they headed to the large, ornately decorated door at the end of the hallway, the doors to the prince’s chambers, where he would meet his new husband at long last.

                Something was amiss. Christophe stood in front of the twin doors, a dark frown on his face as he kept his head down low, irately dragging one of his large cloven hooves along the carpeted floor with a soft clopping noise. He looked up as they approached, trying and failing to smile at Yuuri. He shook his head, slowly walking over to them. Yuuri knotted his brows as the satyr rested a large hand on his shoulder, his eyes downcast and apologetic as he spoke slowly.

                “Yuuri Katsuki of Hasestu, you look simply ravishing. Unfortunately, I have some… unfortunate news. It seems the lord currently does not wish to see you.” He said, a wry smile forming on his cheeks.

                Yuuri felt as though the earth had opened up under his feet, swallowing him whole. His heart dropped to the floor, accompanied with the bitter sting of tears of shame and disappointment. He was not satisfactory, despite the fact that he had been buffed and polished until he shone like the moonstone embedded in the handle of the blade he’d brought up the mountain…

_The knife. It was still in the folds of my kimono…_

                His face paled as he felt his legs tremble, feeling simultaneously incredibly heavy and incredibly light. He looked up into Christophe’s bright green eyes, desperately seeking answers and finding none in the man’s clement expression. He felt truly foolish and useless.

                He felt the gentle touch of hard hoof against his chin as Christophe lifted his face to look him in the eyes. The man cocked his head gently to the side, a sympathetic smile on his face, “it is not your fault, Yuuri Katsuki of man,” He said in a warm tone, stroking Yuuri’s cheek with the back of his hand, “remember when I said the Lord is not a cruel nor vicious man? He is neither of these things, true, but he is being a fool, especially to ignore a beauty such as yours. Would you like to join me in the gardens?”

                Yuuri nodded, feeling hollow and dull. “Why are you being so kind to me, your master has discarded me…”

Christophe shook his head compassionately, “don’t be foolish, boy. Come now, it is your first night amongst the Gods and I refuse to let this be a sorrowful occasion. I insist.”

                Wordlessly, he followed the fawn into a courtyard, stepping into the cool and fresh air of dusk. Around him, small lanterns were hung in the trees, looking like tiny stars laid within the branches. The air smelled soft and earthy as he once again felt the pleasant, organic softness of grass and soil under his feet. He watched the lights reflecting in a central pond, shimmering in an unnatural fashion as the water rippled in the breeze. He had never seen water move like that before, used to the frozen stillness of ice, and found the effect mesmerising. Moths fluttered around the lights, their soft white wings playing with the light, making them look like the paper ghosts of butterflies catching fire.

                Christophe led him to a stone bench under a plum tree, its delicate pink flowers fluttering in the breeze, occasionally dropping a gentle shower of petals shaken from the blossoms. He sat, taking in the calm beauty of the place. It was peaceful, still and silent but still undeniably alive. As he watched nature play out around him, Christophe tended a small glass of a bright yellow liquid in his general direction. He took it curiously, sniffing it. It smelled sweet, with the sharp tang of alcohol.

                “Dandelion wine,” The satyr said with a bright smile, “made from flowers. Most consider them a weed, but I find them particularly beautiful. Not to mention, they make the finest spirit to raise your spirits.”

                “Interesting,” Yuuri said, looking watching the way the lights passed through the golden liquid with great fascination, “we don’t get many flowers at the bottom of the mountain. Usually, we just make our alcohol with roots or berries.”

                “You know,” Christophe said, sipping wine from his own glass with great relish, “the lord would never admit this, but he’s quite fond of dandelions as well.”

                “So, a fan of weeds then,” Yuuri replied as he took a tentative sip from the edge of his glass. It tasted light, warming and bright with a twinge of sweetness. He smiled, surprised at the delicate flavour as he quickly downed the beverage.

                “Fond of mortals, too,” Christophe said dreamily, smiling as he poured Yuuri another glass, “another thing he’d never admit to, and yet I’ve wandered down that mountain countless times with him in our youth. To observe you, to watch you mill about. Of course, that was when I was but a young kid when my fur was still down and my horns were nought but nubs.”

                “He came down to watch us?” Yuuri asked inquisitively, sipping more of the liquid sunlight, “I can’t imagine us being that exciting to watch. Our lives are surprisingly dull… kind of directionless survival, mostly.”

                “And that’s what made it so fascinating to us,” The fawn replied, “the fact that despite the circumstances you find yourselves in, you always find a way to thrive.”

                As the night fell, more of the court’s entourage seemed to gather in the garden, bringing more fine spirits, dishes that Yuuri had never seen in his life and couldn’t possibly describe, and musical instruments. They lit a warm blaze to chase away the chill of nighttime, throwing scented spices and herbs into the flames in order to brightly perfume the air around them and chase away any biting insects. Yuuri felt his heart lighten significantly as he drank, the warm fuzzy tingle of alcohol on his tongue clouding his thoughts, chasing away any thoughts of inadequacy and doubt.

                It had been no secret in Hasetsu that the Katsuki men were to be carefully observed around alcohol. Though they were characteristically sensible, grounded persons when sober, spirits changed them into wild creatures of passion the moment they wet their lips. Despite the change in venues, this was still entirely the rule as Yuuri danced to the music of the ancients, having cast aside his heavy fur robe. He laughed airily, as he passed from partner to partner, twirling Sara in his arms and incurring a glare from a very agitated looking young man as a result. After the man had stared angry, murderous daggers into his heart, he decided to stick to dancing amongst the men.

                Finally, he heard Christophe play a soft, slow song on a stringed instrument. He’d recognised the song as one that had been passed down throughout the village, from the mayor’s ancient family to all the inhabitants of Hasetsu. How it made its way up the mountain, Yuuri did not know, but he knew the story it told in its melancholic, beautiful notes.

                He slowly swept his feet along the ground, waving his arms delicately above his head as he danced, the traditional dance that accompanied the piece, the moon’s lament. He gently swayed, his heart swelling as he became the moon, gently reflecting the light of the sun she loved, but forever unable to exist at the same time as he did. He fluttered his lashes as he swirled, her passion, her pleas for him to simply stay, an hour, a minute, a begging call for him to stay with her. Finally, as the music reached its crescendo he fell to the ground. The lunar eclipse, her one chance at crossing his path, dancing with him for a few short hours until they parted ways again, hanging forever in the same sky but never existing at the same moment, creatures born of realms that were the same yet entirely different.

                All around him, the ancients stared, awed at the man before them. They had never seen a mortal such as him before, that was certain. Christophe’s lips had quirked in a gentle smile as he looked over to the castle overlooking the garden. Yuuri’s eyes followed his gaze, swearing that he saw a curtain flutter in the large windows.

                “Would you care to join us in the servant’s quarters?” The satyr asked, his voice warm and bubbly with the scent of spirits on his breath, “of course, you could sleep in a guest chamber tonight instead, but that can be awfully lonesome. I can guarantee that by tomorrow the lord will allow you to share his bed, do not worry.” He added, punctuating the sentence with a friendly wink.

                Yuuri nodded as the evening’s libations came to a close, draping his arms over his new friend for support as they walked across the courtyard to an annexed building. Despite everything, at least he’d had a good time. He collapsed into a warm, soft bed, listening to the breathing of the other contented beings as he passed out for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout out to 96percentdone for helping me with the issue wherein those sneaky chapter one notes liked to sneak in everywhere, it was driving me batty!
> 
> four chapters in and I still haven't introduced Viktor. What a shame, I promise he'll finally turn up in the next one!
> 
> more notes because why not:  
> \- Songs and dances are historically very important not only to the ancients, but to the inhabitants of Saga as well. Specific songs are used to tell legends, pass down histories, etc. They are so important that notable families will commission songsmiths to write their stories in song and dance to keep their exploits alive.  
> \- As a Medicine Worker, Yuuri and his family are traditionally very well versed in these songs and dances, hence why he recognises them. Part of working at the Medicine House involves healing the soul, and these are important for that task.  
> \- The attendants are all using very formal language when speaking to Yuuri by referring to him by noting his place of origin/ familial clan. It's a sign of great deference, although it is a bit stuffy.  
> \- Dandelion wine is very good if you make it properly. Christophe probably makes his on his own and stashes it around the grounds because he's a rebel like that. :o


	5. Contracts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri gains an audience with the Lord of the castle at last and seals a contract with him.

                Yuuri gently opened his eyes as the pale light of the morning sun streamed in through the window. He rubbed his eyes, looking around as he tried to gather his thoughts for a moment. The room was brightly lit with large picture windows on the walls, opposite the row of soft beds upon one of which he rested along with a mess of other beings, buried in the fragrant white linens. The beds were unlike the soft futons he was accustomed to, held aloft on simple wooden frames. The walls were plain, made of pale oak which seemed to soak in the light, making the living quarters seem airy and inviting.

                His heart sank as he remembered the reason he was in the servant’s quarters. He had been abandoned, rejected, and discarded by the man he was forcibly betrothed to. He sighed as he sat up, casting his eyes about the peacefully slumbering congregation around him. They seemed spent from the night’s celebration, their limbs entangled with each other as they spread across the beds haphazardly, disregarding any boundaries or lines of delineation as the mattresses had long since been pushed together.

                He crawled over Sara and Mila, who were huddled close, the tanned woman’s head buried within the dark red of her companion’s hair, still peppered with pink blossoms that she’d woven into it and Emil whose arms were wrapped tightly around the waist of the man Yuuri recognised as the one who had stared him down the night before, snoring loudly. He slowly managed to make it to the border of the collective den without waking anyone, his bare feet hitting the floorboards noiselessly. He tiptoed out of the servant’s quarters, allowing its inhabitants to rest.

                There was one advantage of Katsuki blood that was a little-known secret, and that was a seemingly inhuman ability to avoid being hung over. Perhaps this was a curse, as little of the evening’s celebrations remained within his waking memory, but he was thankful for it nonetheless. He listened to the peaceful morning song of sparrows, fluttering from branch to branch in the bright rays of the warm sun as he thought about what to do next. He picked up the discarded fur cloak from the other night, still white and radiant in the light as he draped it over his shoulders, noting that it had picked up the comforting, sharp scent of woodsmoke.

                Were Mari to have been rebuked, she would’ve stood her ground, slamming on the door to demand an audience with the Lord. Yuuko, in that circumstance, would’ve waited outside, refusing to move until she got a proper apology and Takeshi would’ve crossed his powerful arms over his stocky chest and spoken honestly, trying to reason with the man behind the door. Yuuri, on the other hand, had meekly walked away, giving up like a weakling as he was wont to do.

                He steeled himself, making his way back to the palace. He was no longer going to be a coward, he was going to return to those doors and demand to know just why he had been so rudely rebuffed. After all, he was no lovestruck suitor, filled with poetry and soft words. He was Yuuri Katsuki of the kingdoms of man, sent up the mountain, never to return, willing to love but unwilling to be treated like a mere plaything. He passed his reflection in a mirror as he made his way back up to the Prince’s chambers, catching his appearance.

                He was still elegantly groomed, yes, but he’d been dishevelled in the bacchanalian celebrations of the night before. His hair was wild and tussled behind the silver crown of ivy, his eyes smeared and smokey giving him a wild and fierce look. His lips were still pink, yes, but tinged with a ring of deeper red along the area where the lip paint had rubbed off on the rim of the glasses from which he drank. He looked otherworldly like a feral dryad stepped out of the groves below.

                And the Lord of the castle would have to accept him as such, not as the polished statue but as the creature with love in his eyes and fire in his heart... emotional, hungry, heartbroken. Human.

                As he approached the end of the corridor, he saw Christophe once again. The satyr looked surprised to see him, a look of delight twinkling in his startled eyes.

                “Good morning, Yuuri. You still look as ravishing as ever,” He said warmly, “I was about to rouse you. I’ve finally managed to talk some sense into the lord, I believe he will be ready to see you now. He is a fool, but not entirely unreasonable after all.”

                “Good morning to you, Christophe,” Yuuri felt a pang of relief as the other man spoke, “you speak very casually about your master, don’t you?”

                Christophe laughed with a shrug, “I’ve known him for long enough now, bless his heart. He’s behind those doors if you wish to see him. I would request that you be gentle with him, alright my friend?”

                “I don’t make promises I can’t keep, Christophe,” Yuuri said with a blithe smile as he opened the doors, stepping into the chamber. “He’ll be alive once I leave, I’ll make sure of that.”

                He heard his warm laughter as the heavy doors closed behind him, enveloping him in a cloak of darkness. The prince’s quarters were large and dimly lit with dark curtains covering the windows. The only light seemed to be from flickering wrought iron lanterns. The floor was carpeted in thick, plush blue velvet which matched the drawn curtains, complementing the sober dark coloured walls upon which tapestries and portraits were hung, though Yuuri could not make out their subjects in the gloomy din. He slowly walked forward, like an animal in an unfamiliar territory, fearful that some dark thing would swoop in from the shadows and tear his chest open to get to his pounding heart. He finally saw a large bed in the back of the room, circular in shape and covered in all sorts of thick duvets and luxurious cushions. There, seated on the bed, was the infamous winter prince himself, looking over a gleaming object with a look of curious melancholy on his face.

                The people below the mountain had no true way of knowing what Nikiforov looked like, of course, only drawing from their depictions based on the myths that had been passed down through the generations. Yuuri had seen paintings and illustrations that showed anything, ranging from a mighty and hideous ogre with bared teeth and twisted horns to a delicate fox-faced young man, to an old and wizened figure, stooped and frail. Yuuri never believed these to be accurate, but he could never have imagined what the real winter prince looked like. He was, however, certain that the man in front of him was the genuine article, breathtaking and beautiful.

                He was neither enormous nor whithered looking, but rather looked closer to Mari’s age despite the long years upon which he had inhabited the earth. His face was delicate, androgynous almost, with high cheekbones and a fine jaw. His hair was long and silver, like strands of pale moonlight falling over his milky skin and muscular form. He was clad in robes of varying shades of deep royal blue, with delicate golden threading working in patterns reminiscent of the feathers on the tail of a peacock. His head was adorned with a matching crown of blue roses, delicately decorated with ornamental leaves in shimmering gold and a pair of bone white antlers. His pale eyes were soft, gently pensive behind his fanning white lashes, glimmering in the dim candlelight like moonstone. They were extraordinary eyes that flashed with magic and power unlike anything Yuuri had ever seen, starlight and fire flickering through his pupils.

                But they were cold, icy, and undeniably sad.

                He didn’t seem to have noticed the intrusion upon his cloister, Yuuri realised, or if he had, he hadn’t commented on it. Yuuri rocked nervously on his heels as he tried to think of the proper thing to say, all the fiery determination in his spirit seemingly snuffed out like a candle in a storm. Finally, he settled on an introduction, although the words were awkward, as though his tongue were made of lead.

                “Hello, sir…” He started, “I uh… I’m your betrothed… The uh, human Yuuri Katsuki from Saga. I’ve come to seek your… I’ve come…”

                “To kill me?” The man finally suggested in a dull voice, his voice was gentle and soft despite the weight of his words, almost reminiscent of the drifts of snow that blew through the streets of Hasetsu at night, rattling through the branches and skittering across the paving stones, “with this…”

                He held out the object he’d been observing, much to Yuuri’s horror. He felt his heart wrench its way into his throat as his fingers clenched into white-knuckled nervous fists. His head was light as the blood left his cheeks entirely, turning him into a pale spectre of a man, dry mouthed and trembling. It was the dagger, with its dark hilt and gleaming blade, reflecting the dim light with an ethereal glow. In the centre, the stone matched the wielder’s eyes, almost glowing.

                “No… I had no intention…” He stammered, unsure of what to say. He had been so certain that it was hidden, that it would reappear amongst the neatly folded clothing once it had been returned to him, “I had no intention of doing you harm. It was a parting gift from a dear friend…they wanted me to have it.”

                “You would not be the first to try,” He spoke again, his tone strangely aloof, as though the prospect of being assassinated was a particularly dry daily chore, “last year he at least waited until our wedding night, tried to do me in with the curtain strings while we were consummating the marriage. Of course, he was unsuccessful… It was almost sad, really, he was so desperate. Are you desperate too, Yuuri Katsuki of Hasetsu?”

                Yuuri shook his head, “I am desperate to end this yes, but I don’t intend to kill you or bring you harm. I intend to end this, if you will let me, by standing close to you.”

                Yuuri could’ve sworn he saw the faintest trace of a smile form on the man’s lips as he set the dagger down beside him, “you think your warmth will be enough to thaw my heart and break my curse, Yuuri Katsuki of Saga?”

                Yuuri nodded, looking deep into those opalescent eyes, making an unspoken promise to the man in front of him. He would not give up on him as so many seemed to have in the past, not just for the sake of his kingdom or family anymore, but for the sake of those cold blue eyes.  He needed to seem them filled with warmth. “I intend to do my best, Lord Nikiforov. I will not abandon you.”

                “And if you fail, mortal?” He asked softly, creeping forward on the bed as he spoke, “You do know the consequences of your failure, do you… They’ve been passed down throughout your people, haven’t they?” He rested his long delicate fingers over Yuuri’s chest, gently tracing over his heart. His long nails were painted a gleaming silver, making them almost seem like the tips of a knife in their own right.

                “I shall not,” Yuuri said, resting his hand on top of the winter prince’s, warming his cool flesh with his own. “I shall not fail you.”

                “If you do,” He continued, leaning closer to Yuuri until his face was mere inches from Yuuri’s heaving chest. His pale lips gently ghosted over the region where his beating heart lay, his warm breath working its way through the layers of thin silk and cotton, “I shall eat your heart. Are you willing to accept that risk, mortal?”

                Yuuri felt a warm shudder go down his spine at the proximity between the two. He had very little experience with contact beyond the usual scope of caretaking at the Medicine House or friendly touches betwixt family and friends. This was definitely outside that range, almost intimate in an undoubtedly dangerous manner, “I do.”

                “This is your final chance, Yuuri Katsuki, mortal from Saga…” Nikiforov spoke again, looking up into Yuuri’s dark eyes with a smile, his other hand offering him the blade almost tenderly, “should you want to end me, I accept my fate. Should you want to love me, you accept yours.”

                Yuuri held the dagger in his hands, feeling an incredible amount of heft to it. On one hand, were he to drive it into the demigod, he would bring the endless winter to an immediate end and thus save the kingdoms of man entirely… but on the other, it seemed unjust of him to take the other’s life.

                No, he would not give up, nor would he run away. He would end the winter, yes, but he refused to harm the other man. Duty to the kingdoms be damned. He was certain Yuuko would find it in her heart to forgive him as he cast the blade away, throwing it onto the floor. He bent down, kneeling in humility in front of his husband-to-be. He gently leant in, brushing the other man’s lips with his warm ones, a fleeting but meaningful kiss.

                The other man sighed gently, cocking his head to the side with a small smile as he watched Yuuri with a penetrating gaze, pale embers and sparks flickering within his eyes, “Then we are wed. The contract we started at the foot of the mountain has been sealed, Yuuri. Please, call me Viktor from here on out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~I almost sat on this one because it feels a little bit short but I assumed you were all as excited as I was to get Yuuri and Viktor to finally meet ah~~
> 
>  
> 
> The notes because it's a tradition at this point:  
> \- Viktor's being a little bit haughty in referring to Yuuri's mortality, as it's not actually considered very proper amongst the ancients to do so.  
> \- The depictions of the Gods in the imaginations of human beings differ from culture to culture, since no one has really been close enough to see them and come back to tell the tale.


	6. Honeymoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri coaxes Viktor from the safety of his cloister as they get to know each other better

                “Viktor?” Yuuri asked, cocking an inquisitive brow as he tried the name, gently tasting it on the tip of his tongue. One bite on the lips and a gentle tap against his front teeth, foreign to his tongue but beautiful in its own right. A decidedly human name, one which brought along images of bitter cold, but also the warmth of a hearth and the strength of survival amongst the untamed wild. A proud name, one which suited the being before him as though it was engraved within his skin.

                “Curious, isn’t it? One of the Sun God’s own progeny being the owner of two names…” Viktor said with a gentle smile, “it was the name my mother gifted me with, I am quite fond of it myself.”

                “It’s lovely, I just wasn’t expecting it,” Yuuri replied. He kept his eyes on the soft smile that had found its way onto his face. It was beautiful, subtle, but had the slightly wistful quality of one that was very rarely present, not quite enveloping his entire face. A flicker of a candle’s flame against the night sky, which needed to be shielded from the cold by a protective hand.

“I’m glad you agree, Yuuri,” Viktor said, his voice lilting slightly on his name, giving it a strangely musical timbre, one which Yuuri found almost addictive in nature, “what do you wish to do now, my little nightingale?”

                 Yuuri felt the tips of his ears go hot, a soft dusting of pale pink flushing onto his cheeks at the tender moniker. His chest felt strangely tight as his heart beat faster. He averted his eyes, slightly ashamed of responding so bashfully to the other man’s words. “Whatever you wish to, my lord…”

                Viktor shook his head with a short, delicate laugh, “oh dear Yuuri, there is no need for such formalities amongst us… unless, of course, you would prefer me to be haughty and domineering.”

                “I would prefer you as you are, Viktor,” Yuuri murmured softly, his voice still quiet and uncertain, “I wish to know you, not merely as the monster on the top of the mountain or the tragic lord of the mountain… but as a person, if that makes any sense.”

                The smile quirked higher on his lips as those pale, intense eyes watched him with a mixture of interest and amusement, as though he was still analysing, prying into Yuuri’s soul, seeking truths and answers as to the authenticity of the man kneeling before him.

                Yuuri did not hold his mild air of suspicion against him, especially considering the weight of the conversation they had just shared. He felt a chill down his spine as his mind returned to the blasé tone he had taken as he described curtain strings tightly wrapped around his throat at his most vulnerable moment, cutting into his flesh and cutting short his breath. He found his hands rising subconsciously to his neck, a sympathy pain welling in his windpipe as he imagined the betrayal and pain that the other man must’ve felt at the moment.

                “You are an interesting creature, Yuuri Katsuki of man…” Viktor spoke as he slowly brushed his fingers along Yuuri’s jaw, meeting Yuuri’s fingers with his own, “are you perhaps worried about me?”

                “I am…” Yuuri said earnestly, allowing his eyes to meet Viktor’s once more, “I was merely thinking, if you allow me to be so brash and candid, of how much pain you’ve been subjected to.”

                The smile seemed to falter for a brief moment as a faint shadow seemed to fall on his face, “an interesting consideration, dear Yuuri… not many mortals would show concern for the feelings of the Gods, not to mention, I _am_ the tyrant of the mountain, devourer of the hearts of man. Are you certain I am deserving of your sympathies?”

                “I am aware, I have heard the legends, but I don’t believe you to be the monster you are made out to be…” Yuuri said, “perhaps I am naïve or foolish, but I can’t see you being cruel and heartless. Not really.”

                The prince smiled once more, his eyes softening as he considered Yuuri’s words. He cocked his head to the side, causing the silvery curtain of his mane to flow softly, catching the candlelight of the chamber in shimmering undulations. The movement of it was simply extraordinary, like nothing Yuuri had ever witnessed before. It made him think of the sun reflecting off the rippling surface of the pond in the gardens, fluid and unnatural in its beauty. “Very well, my dear whip-poor-will, I shall choose to believe your song to be true... Heed my words, however, any lies shall do very little to win my favour. Now, how do you wish to proceed?”

                “I don’t quite understand what you are getting at, Viktor…” Yuuri responded hesitantly, not expecting to have been given the burden of choice.

                “Well, there are many things we could choose to do now. If I am to be quite blunt, at this point most of your compatriots chose to… consummate the marriage.” Viktor replied, his eyes twinkling with a glimmer of impish mischief.

                Yuuri’s face went hot again, a deep crimson hue tinting his cheeks as he fell back awkwardly, landing seated on the floor, his legs splayed pathetically in front of him. He hid his face in his hands, peeking from betwixt his fingers as he felt the other man’s amused eyes piercing his very soul.

                _Perhaps I have died and gone to hell. Perhaps this is a demon and this is my eternal suffering._

“Am I truly that hideous to you, dear Yuuri?” Viktor laughed warmly, reaching a hand over the edge of the bed to tussle his hair with affectionate playfulness, "is that why I strike fear into the hearts of men?"

                “Absolutely not, Viktor…” Yuuri said softly from behind the safety of his fingers, “you are beautiful. Breath-taking even. If anyone here is hideous, it’s me… it’s just that it’s a bit early for that sort of thing, isn’t it?”

                The man shook his head as he continued his airy, bouncy laugh. There was an innately musical quality to his laughter, like a melody that was at the same time beautiful but tinged with sadness, like a dirge, a lullaby he had long forgotten. There was a slightly rusty note to it as well, as though he very rarely had the opportunity to indulge in laughter and the sound had therefore fallen to disuse.

                It made Yuuri want to do anything he could to make him happy, despite the fact that he did feel a little bit meek and foolish at the moment, staring up at this otherworldly being from the bottom of his bed. He wanted to preserve the song that was Viktor's laughter, save him from grief and pain.

                “How about breakfast instead?” He asked sheepishly, suggesting the first thing that came to his mind and feeling quite childish as a result. Still, part of him was slightly concerned about the other man’s wellbeing since he wasn’t certain that his new husband had eaten anything last night, although that may have simply been the result of his own worrisome nature. It was a trait that served him well as a healer, but he had been told several times throughout his life that he came across as being slightly overbearing. Mostly by Mari, who insisted that this was why he was unable to find a romantic partner, and of course he would retaliate by reminding her that she had no place to make judgements in regards to relationships.

                It couldn’t be helped, if he sank most of his time and energy into helping others, he would be too worn and exhausted to think about his own failings and inadequacies. It was, perhaps, a selfishness on his part to use devotion as a means of escapism but as long as he ended up helping people in the end then he didn’t mind it so much.

                “I think I would appreciate that very much, Yuuri,” Viktor finally said, Peering down at Yuuri from his vantage point on the bed, “should I ask Christophe to bring something for us?”

                “I was hoping we could eat out in the gardens,” Yuuri replied gently, “I’m not quite used to the warmth of spring weather and it’s quite beautiful. I’ve been enjoying it quite a lot.”

                Viktor watched him silently from the base of the bed, lying on his stomach. His long hair gently trailed along the edge, fanning against the dark blue and purple of the quilted bedspread, almost looking colourless. Like a flash of the brilliant white snow that Yuuri was so accustomed to, bright in the din of the bedchamber, fluttering slightly as though it was a wispy drift of powder in the wind. He wanted to touch it but figured it might be untoward to do so, so he choked back the instinct.

                _Perhaps_ , he thought to himself, causing his heart to flutter in his chest as though it was a small animal pacing excitedly against his ribs, _there will be a time when I will be allowed to do so_.

                The man’s eyes were soft, gently pensive again behind his long lashes as he finally spoke, his brows cocked with concern and thought, “so, we leave the chamber then?”

                “Is there a problem with that, Viktor?” Yuuri asked, noting the slightly nervous expression that had flashed like a quick shadow across the man’s face before returning to its delicate mask of stoicism, “if it’s too much trouble, I don’t mind staying in here with you as well.”

                Viktor shook his head, causing the silvery trail of his tresses to shimmer against the dark fabric again, “no, it should be quite alright… it’s just that I haven’t left this bed in so long. Pathetic, isn’t it?”

                He looked once more into those blue eyes, so beautiful, so tinged with doubt and sadness. Yuuri had seen such things happen often in the village, people falling to melancholia and isolating themselves in the safety of their dens, unable to face the grey, snowy world around them. He would usually try to gently coax them out, perhaps by simply talking or occasionally with a concoction of pale green leaves, amber tree sap, and rosehips he knew would be able to soothe their ailing mind. It wasn’t that the medication fixed everything or forced happiness into them, but he knew that it would help balance whatever it was that caused them to be unable to process emotions properly.

                He wondered if he would be able to mix something like that for Viktor, not even knowing what greenery grew outside the palace doors.

                For now, he would focus on kindness. It wasn’t a chore after all, and he was certain it would at least do him well.

                He shook his head softly, speaking warmly and earnestly, “it’s not pathetic at all. Even I have had days where it felt preferable to simply disappear and pretend not to exist. I would really love it, however, if you came with me out into the garden today. If that is too difficult for you, I don’t mind staying in here for now, but I am certain that nature will be even more beautiful with you by my side.”

                Viktor’s eyes didn’t leave him as he studied him, seemingly dissecting his response in his mind’s eye. He recognised that response in himself, a strange inability to accept that people would extend kindness in his direction, a rejection of any self-worth. Finally, he seemed to have resigned and accepted the other man’s words, lowering his gates for a moment.

                “Very well, Yuuri…” he said with a sigh, another small, tentative smile gently fluttering along his lips as he spoke with mild hesitation, “let’s go to the gardens.”

                Yuuri stood to his feet, extending an open hand to Viktor so as to help him to his own. Viktor gently took it, his fingers long, dainty, elegant, and cold against Yuuri’s shorter and warmer ones as he stood almost airily to his feet. He moved weightlessly, as though he was made of pale moonlight, beautiful and soft, incorporeal. Every step a dance in its own right as his toes barely brushed against the ground below them, making Yuuri feel slightly clumsy and heavy in comparison. He pulled up his robes, which had slid slightly off his shoulder as he smiled weakly, a tinge of anxiety in his eyes as they walked along, bare feet sinking into the plush depths of the carpet as they made their way to the heavy wooden doors of the chamber.

                He felt Viktor’s hand slightly squeeze his own, almost uncertain. The gesture was strangely human, endearing in a strange way, as though he was seeing a hidden vulnerability no one had witnessed before. He gave the other man a friendly, reassuring smile as he gently pushed the door open, bringing in a bright almost stabbing light from the corridor.

                He squinted into the light, adjusting to it as Christophe smiled brightly at the pair, his ear quirked towards the door as though he had been keeping a watchful eye on them.

                “Finally got him to leave his hidey-hole, Yuuri?” The fawn asked, his green eyes twinkling in delight as he spoke, “did he apologise for his behaviour at all, or shall I have to force an apology out of him?”

                Viktor muttered something Yuuri could not quite make out, and even if he did he was certain it was not in Commontongue.

                However, it did seem to make the satyr break out in hearty laughter, gently patting the demigod on his shoulder. “I told you, didn’t I, my Liege. He’s a special one, mark my words. Shall I bring you some breakfast then?”

                “Out in the gardens, yes…” Viktor said, his tone slightly uncertain, as though he hardly believed what it was he was saying, “I shall be out there with Yuuri.”

                “Are you certain you haven’t killed him and replaced him with someone else?” Christophe asked with another merry laugh. Despite the laughter seemingly having caused a soft tinge of pink to dust Viktor’s cheeks, it wasn’t derisive or malicious at all, but rather seem to stem from joy and deep-seated relief.

                It seemed as though perhaps there was a weight on the satyr’s shoulders as well.

                Viktor huffed as he turned to Yuuri, his tone cool and dismissive, “Would you like to head to the gardens now, my dear nightingale? Perhaps once Christophe is done enjoying his side job as a comedian he can join us as well.”

                The haughty tone inspired more laughter from the taller man, his three-fingered hands lifted to his mouth as he tried to regain his composure. Viktor rolled his eyes at the man, it was quite hard to believe that he was in the demigod's employ.

                Yuuri nodded as Viktor led him by his hand, his steps feather light on the cool marble tile as they exited into the warm, welcoming light of day. Out in the natural light, Viktor was even more resplendent, the slightly cool undertones of his milky skin and shimmering hair even more apparent amongst the greenery and warm sunlight around them. His pale, opalescent eyes had fallen on Yuuri, seemingly admiring him as he looked him up and down, as though seeing him for the first time.

                He gently lifted his hand once more, resting it under Yuuri’s chin and tilting his head back slightly as he looked into his dark eyes, almost seeming transfixed and amazed.

                “I haven’t seen the light of the sun for so long,” He murmured softly, “and underneath its rays, you are simply extraordinary.”

                “Nonsense…” Yuuri muttered, “I’m but an ordinary man. All of this is because of the attendants...”

                “No, your eyes are like the night sky…” He continued gently, his voice wistful and soft as he ran a thumb along Yuuri’s jawline, “I can’t remember the last time I looked at the moon against that night sky from anywhere that was not my bedroom window.”

                “Would you like to see it later with me,” He asked, “For real?”

                He nodded wordlessly.

                _Progress._


	7. Cold to the Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Viktor talk in the garden, getting to know each other a little bit better and Yuuri tries to work some of that healing into their moment of repose.

                The sun’s gentle rays beat down on Yuuri and Viktor as they silently sat on a grassy knoll, eating the spread that had been laid out for them on a plain white cloth. Yuuri was genuinely startled by how incredibly different everything here was, from the soft, flaky white bread to the dark pomegranate seeds suspended in light, sweet fruit preserves, everything seemed to be dainty and soft, so entirely removed from the dense, hearty meals to which he had been accustomed.

                Viktor watched him with curiosity as he sipped from a cup of a sweet, delicate tea brewed from flower petals, “you seem deeply concerned. Is this not satisfactory for you, because I can always ask to have something else prepared…”

                “No, not at all, it seems lovely,” Yuuri said as he cautiously picked up a round fruit, gently running his fingers along the soft, slightly fuzzy texture of the peel, “I simply must admit that I’m entirely unfamiliar with most of this. Things like this don’t really grow where I’m from, so we usually make do with what we can find… so everything kind of ends up really heavy and filling. It's useful, but not nearly quite so refined...”

                “I see,” Viktor said, tilting his head as he digested the information he was given, “I’d heard about the cooking traditions from the Winterlands a long time ago. Would you prefer if I tried to accommodate that instead? Although we aren’t quite as knowledgeable about the human ways as we like to think we are, I am certain that I could learn quite well.”

                “Oh no, it’s quite alright,” Yuuri said, a soft, warm blush creeping its way onto his cheeks, “if you’re interested though, I could always try to cook something for you sometime… I don't cook very often, but I know a few recipes I've learned from my mother.”

                Viktor’s face seemed to light up instantly, a gentle twinkle in his eye as he smiled brightly. He found himself drawn to that smile, wanting to soak in it like a plant gently unfurling it's leaves to meet the morning sun, “I would love that.”

                Yuuri nodded bashfully, turning his attention back to the fruit in his hands. He had seen it in paintings, like many other things, but he was starting to realise that seeing representations of things, their ghostly memory passed down throughout years of neglect, was nothing like experiencing them for the first time in person… in a way, he felt as though he was a child once more, reborn into a strange new world where the grass was green, where water rippled like molten silver in the gentle breeze as leaves rustled in the branches above, where flowers bloomed, their silky petals gently caressing the open sky as they yearned for the light of the sun.

                Where one could sit shoulder to shoulder with the beast that feasted on human hearts, enjoying sweet fruit preserves spread thinly on fluffy white bread in the warm light of the midday sun. The whole scene felt strangely surreal, as though it had come out of a dream and Yuuri would wake up to the bleary grey blanket of clouds and bitter chill of winter once more.

                “Mother used to say that the people at the base of the mountain used to eat these too, back when the entire world was green and young,” Viktor said with a soft smile as he picked up a fruit similar to the one Yuuri was contemplating, “and winter only lasted for a few months and would give way to tender spring every year. She said the mortals used to believe that they would grant you the gift of eternal life.”

                Yuuri nodded. He vaguely remembered hearing something similar a long time ago, one of the older, less commonly recounted tales. The one about how an enterprising young man managed to steal a single pit from a peach and planted the fruit in an orchard, and from that single purloined seed grew a hidden grove where the fruit of the eternity grew plentiful and sweet. He wondered just where Viktor would’ve heard such a tale, figuring that the tale would’ve been very regional… the sort of thing that doesn’t particularly travel far. Unless, of course, the gods kept a closer eye on the mortals below at the bottom of their kingdom.

                “I thought the grove of eternity was just an old myth,” Yuuri said, quirking his head to the side, “has it been real all along?”

                Viktor laughed breezily once more, the buoyant sound carrying like a gentle chime amongst the birdsong and the mournful cries of the beasts living in the glade. His eyes twinkled with something joyful but slightly melancholic, something akin to nostalgia. “If it is, I never found it. I used to trek down the mountain when I was younger, merely driven by an exploratory curiosity of course.”

                “Christophe said something along those lines. He said you wanted to see us, that you found us interesting on a certain level…” Yuuri said as he took a small, tentative bite from the fruit. It was sweet, filling his mouth a delicate, lingering sweetness not entirely unlike that of the bright red berries what they would occasionally collect from deep within the woods, but at the same time entirely unfamiliar. He was surprised, taking a bigger bite, eating more.

                “Oh, did he?” Viktor said with a tone of mild interest, “he would know of course… but he should know better than to speak so freely of our childhood excursions. I am certain you wouldn’t be aware, but entering the realm of the mortals is actually quite an affair, we aren’t supposed to interact with you or else you end up with… never mind.”

                “You aren’t allowed to cross the borderline either?” Yuuri asked with surprise, slightly shocked by the revelation. All this time, he’d thought the creatures of the realm of the gods were truly free, free to do as they pleased whenever they pleased. Knowing that they too subscribed to rules and regulations felt like a strange sort of betrayal, as though the image he’d upheld in his mind's eye for such a long time was shattered to pieces.

                Viktor shook his head, the sun rippling once more through those silvery tresses in a hypnotic manner, enrapturing Yuuri for a moment, “no, we are not to do so unless we have a purpose, brought up to the elder gods. Nothing good comes from humans and gods mingling together… our current situation notwithstanding, of course, my dear.”

                The conversation tapered to a still silence once more. He observed the other man quietly, trying to read his expression. There was the quiet mask of stoicism that he wore, of course, superficially affable and proud, but there was an underlying wistful sadness lying underneath the surface. Something dark, a shadow of doubt in those shimmering, pale moonstone eyes of his, blending into the sparks of magic that danced within. Yuuri figured that, of course, it had something to do with something with the general disposition of the man, the lingering woe that seemed to radiate from deep within his being.

                He gently rested his hand on top of the other man’s, absentmindedly running his fingers along the cool surface of his skin as he pondered his situation. He was obviously afraid of death, as all mortal things were, but simultaneously seemed to have pushed the instinctive fear of the cold unknowable beyond into the depths of his heart. Something about the circumstances almost made him feel as though it was an impossibility, despite the other man’s reputation. He was clearly not particularly bloodthirsty, nor as cruel as he had been led to believe all these years, but there was a dearth of secrets hidden under that cold, soft, unblemished flesh of his. Secrets that Yuuri wanted to dig out and expose, old wounds that had certainly been opened time and time again on late nights when he couldn’t sleep, wounds that he wanted to gently kiss and close up once more.

                Perhaps it was because they were kindred spirits in that regard.

                _We were both drawn to the unknowable and forbidden… Like a magnetic force, it seems. Perhaps this goes deeper than the mere mysterious whims of fate._

He felt a gentle shudder run through the other man’s arm under his rougher, slightly calloused fingers. Yuuri pulled his hand back, “I’m sorry, was that improper?”

                “Of course not,” the other man said in a soft whisper, his gaze fleeting, almost demure and uncertain, as though he were revealing some shameful truth, “I must admit that I’ve simply never really gotten entirely used to the warmth of another’s touch. You humans have such warm, radiant hearts, it flows through your veins and blooms through your pores. It’s truthfully quite extraordinary, almost like the sun…”

                Yuuri felt a chill run down his spine at the mention of human hearts. He was fully aware of the nature of the other man, of course, it was impossible not to be eternally aware of it, but at the same time, it seemed like everything formed a bleak reminder of the price of failure. _Is that why he needs to consume the hearts of men?_

Despite being surrounded by the tender radiance of spring, the other man was eternally doomed to feel none of it, trapped deep in a personal icy winter of his own, one that coursed wildly through his veins and pooled in the depths of that cold, frozen heart of his.

                It was pitiable.

                “May I?” Yuuri asked, gently leaning forward, slowly splaying out his fingers, fanning them out. His palms were slightly clammy, nervous and filled with anxiety and trepidation.

                Viktor nodded wordlessly, nervously biting his lower lip. Yuuri moved in closer, closing up the gap between the two of them as he delicately unclasped the golden clasps on the dark, slightly iridescent blue robes, opening them slightly, revealing the smooth expanse of pale skin that laid beneath. The other man’s skin glowed with a radiant, inhuman quality, tinted with the delicate blue tinge of something that had been left out in the snow, lined with crisscrossing, gleaming silver strands, magical and otherworldly markings that betrayed his past, his cross to bear. They were almost like dainty, silver brands, burned into his flesh. 

He was beautiful.

                Viktor sighed, closing his eyes and slowly throwing his head back, revealing the long, silky smooth stretch of his vulnerable throat. Yuuri swallowed as he vaguely thought back to the story he’d been told about the curtain strings… He made a mental promise not to allow such brutality to ever befall either of them ever again. Ever so slowly, he brushed the glacial flesh with his fingertips, feeling the familiar bite of snow and ice under the warm pads of his digits. He gritted his teeth as he tenderly spread his fingers, pressing his palm against the frigid skin, drawing another violent shudder and soft, breathy moan from the other man as he rested his hand against him. Viktor’s blue eyes fixed him again as he tilted his head forward. He looked at the dark-haired man with an air of bemusement, as though he hadn’t been expecting the touch despite leaving himself open to it.

                Yuuri met his pale eyes with his own, trying to give him a carefree smile despite the dull ache of the cold chill burning against his skin. Despite the mild twinge of pain, he felt strangely in his element, giving of himself to soothe another's pain.

                “Is this alright?” He asked, rubbing tight, warm circles into the other man’s smooth skin, working warmth into the other man’s body, trying to leech the frost from within his chest cavity. His heart felt tight, pounding in his chest as he reveled in the contact. It felt intimate, strangely close despite the fact that they were still dancing on eggshells around each other. Perhaps what they were having difficulty breaching with words, they would approach with the gentle contact of skin on skin.

                Viktor nodded once more, “it feels incredible... like I'm alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh look, these sweet boys are making more progress!  
> [here](http://68.media.tumblr.com/7a670551ba305a1b3daaffc2ea47906d/tumblr_oqvs95deh61qf5510o1_400.png)'s a quick bust of Viktor I drew if anyone's curious as to what I've been picturing when I was writing :o
> 
> THE NOTES BECAUSE I MISSED THEM LAST TIME:
> 
> \- _The Winterlands_ is an archaic name for the land of the mortals. Viktor's lived in fair isolation on the mountain, so his language occasionally dips into older or more formal and stilted registers.  
>  \- There's a council that dictates whether or not it's appropriate for immortals to cross over into the realm of men. They're very strict, so the crossings occur incredibly rarely, hence why mortals and gods are so isolated from each other.


	8. haunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor and Yuuri share a memory

                Yuuri yawned as he shuffled slightly on the soft grass. Despite the temperature drop, the spring evening was mild and temperate, with the soft whisper of a chill carried on the occasional breeze. He felt fingers twining in his hair, gently stroking the dark strands. He opened his bleary eyes, slightly dazed from his dip out of consciousness, realising that he had dozed off at some point during the evening. For someone so reluctant to leave the safety of the darkened bedchamber, Viktor seemed to be quite content with peacefully sitting in the gardens amongst the starlight of the lanterns hung in the trees, allowing Yuuri to apparently rest his head on the other man’s lap.

                He hummed, seemingly not noticing that his partner had stirred. A sad song, one that gently pulled at Yuuri’s heartstrings as he cast his eyes to the starry skies above, spread out like an endless sprawling blanket of deep blue. They were unlike anything he’d seen back home, the twinkling stars laid out in unfamiliar patterns that Yuuri could not recognise, looking almost absurdly close, as though if he stretched his hands out he could pluck them from the sky and braid them into Viktor’s hair. He smiled despite himself at the thought. He felt a mild pang of longing for home, but there was still something peaceful and calm.

                The other man gently swayed his head as he hummed the familiar tune, a lullaby that Yuuri had long forgotten as he traversed through the winding path of life from the cradle to the grave. Strangely nostalgic, but for a place that perchance didn’t even exist. A figment of his imagination, a soft dream barely remembered upon waking.

                “Viktor?” He murmured dreamily, turning his head to face the other man, looking into those pale eyes, so wistful as they looked up to the sky. He was still an enigma, one that Yuuri wished he could understand better. The puzzles that had once seemed so out of reach were instantly closer, much like those abnormally bright stars above, within the reach of his fingers. He reached up, gently grazing Viktor’s chin with his fingertips, feeling the cool contours of his soft jawline, “what are you thinking about? If I may be so brash as to ask… may you share what’s on your mind, I do so want to know.”

                Viktor stilled for a moment, his hands pausing as a tremor of surprise seemed to shudder its way through his being. His eyes flitted down to meet Yuuri’s dark ones, seemingly focused on the twin reflections of the moon in his eyes. A thin smile spread on his face as he allowed himself to lean into the touch, “Oh my dear Yuuri, you don’t wish to be troubled with the thoughts of an old codger like myself.”

                “I do,” Yuuri whispered tilting his head to the side as he spoke, his thumb tracing the small divot under the man’s lower lip, drawing a sweet sigh. He had learnt that the further he’d brushed his fingers away from the other man’s frozen heart, less cold his skin felt. His lip was almost warm, slightly cooler than that of a normal human being, “I do so wish to help you shoulder your burden. I’m certain it’s been mentioned in passing, but back in the village at the base of the mountain, my family runs a medicine house. To ease the pain of others is as natural as breathing, as this heart beating below my skin, as natural as the blood running through my veins.”

                “You’re an interesting creature, my whip-poor-will…” He said pensively, his fingers resuming their work of playing with Yuuri’s hair as he spoke, “most are quite alright with simply living in the lap of luxury, not bringing their work up here with them.”

                “I know, but it’s not just a matter of work…” He said softly, “I just want to help you. You’re interesting…”

                “Interesting?” He asked, cocking his head to the side as he spoke. There was a small twinkle of interest and intrigue in his eyes as the ghost of a smile played on his lips.

                “Yes, interesting. You’re so different from what I expected, that juxtaposition of the monster I’ve been told to fear and the person you really are… it’s fascinating. I want to know you.” He murmured, smiling in his dreamy haze, “and that means knowing what’s worrying you…”

                Viktor’s expression was vaguely impenetrable as the other man watched him carefully, seemingly drinking in Yuuri’s words, as though he was not entirely used to people asking him such questions. He gave the impression of a man who swallowed back all his sadness, keeping it bottled inside like a tempestuous dark ocean within his chest cavity. Finally, he let out a gentle sigh, bending closer to Yuuri’s face, his breath strangely warm on his forehead as the curtain of silver hair fanned out around them. “I was merely thinking about ephemerality, something you would know well as a mortal, my dear Evening Primrose.”

                Yuuri furrowed his brows in confusion as he looked up into Viktor’s pale blue eyes, noting that the otherworldly sheen seemed to be intensifying with his gaze, like hot embers or sparks of lightning, sending a chill down Yuuri’s spine. “What about ephemerality?”

                “I can show you…” He murmured softly, lowering his visage further still, bridging the space between the two of them as he bent down. His cool lips grazed Yuuri’s softly, catching him by surprise. Yuuri instinctively closed his eyes once more, quirking his lips to meet the other man’s soft ones once more. He felt the gentle pressure of a cold fingertip against his fluttering eyelid.

                When he opened his eyes once more, he was no longer Yuuri Katsuki, but rather seemed to be in a dream, a vision that was not his own. He was a small glimmer curled into the mind of another, incapable of acting, only able to watch silently and witness the scene unfolding before him.

 In this hazy, blurry vision, he seemed to be a child, slight and thin, with limbs that seemed slightly too long, buried in ornate purple robes. Tears stung at his eyes as he ran through trees, his bare feet kicking up dirt and leaves littered along the forest floor. His breath was incredibly shallow, heavy in his chest as he ran desperately, fear and anxiety pushing him ahead even though he was exhausted. Finally, as though he could no longer press forward, he collapsed, panting as his slender legs trembled under his body, like a small fawn barely capable of standing on its own two feet. He huddled under thick brush, hearing the musical call of voices behind him, shouting in Astralspeak. He shivered, covering his mouth with long slender fingers, as though to silence his panicked breaths and hoarse sobs. He raised another hand to his head, removing an ornate crown of gilded roses and small, precious stones, burying it in the leaf litter and natural debris on the ground, as though afraid that the light might reflect off its shimmering surface, giving his position away to his unknown pursuers. Caught in the metal were loose strands of long silver hair, shining like strands of mirrored glass in the summer afternoon sun. He listened, hearing the steps of the others grow distant.

He allowed himself the luxury of a few silent, shaky breaths as he sobbed quietly, the hot tears that had been blurring his vision finally falling from his long lashes, rolling down his cheeks.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned around, panicking. He had been caught, he would be punished and reprimanded for fleeing…

“I won’t tell them, it’s okay…” The hand’s owner said in a gentle, soothing whisper. He knelt down next to him, his green eyes warm with a sympathetic kindness. The boy was about his age, probably a servant at the palace. His face was friendly, with the slightly wild appearance that was characteristic to all satyrs, though this one was young, with only the smallest sprouts of bony black horn and fine downy black hair on his arms and legs, giving him a scruffy and strange appearance that would’ve been quite funny if he wasn’t utterly terrified at the moment.

“Thank you…” The boy muttered, allowing himself to stop tensing his muscles for a moment. He’d been ready to run again.

                “Are you alright, young master?” The satyr said, cocking his head to the side as he gently pushed a tangled lock of silver hair out of his face. He sounded strangely sincere, for someone who had to work for him. “You’re crying…”

                “I’m alright…” He said coolly, trying and failing to sound proud and strong.

                The other boy shook his head, his long, pointed goat-like ears drooping slightly, “You’re lying. You don’t have to lie, I won’t tell anyone where you’re hiding and I won’t tell anyone why you’re sad. Is it because of the lady?”

                He nodded, biting back another hoarse sob that threatened to spill out along with the stinging bitter tear. “I miss her… I don’t want to do this. I don’t want any of this, why can’t we just let me die too?”

                The boy gently wrapped his arms around him, allowing him to slump his head onto his shoulder, surprisingly strong and muscular for someone so young, though it was to be expected of someone who probably worked as hard as the young fawn did. He didn’t deserve this boy’s sympathy, and yet he allowed himself to bury his face into the soft blue cloth of his simple tunic, hiding his bloodshot eyes. He felt those hard, hooved fingers gently stroke his hair as he made soothing, shushing noises. “It’s alright, it’s not fair… but her noblesse wouldn’t want you to die. She loved you, my lord. She loved you so much, surely you can be strong for her. It might not mean much, but I know we can find a way to break the curse, and until then we might need to do this…”

                “I don’t want to hurt anyone,” He whimpered, knowing full well that he sounded selfish and spoiled, “they don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve this. I deserve to die… Maybe then I can be back with mother.”

                The other boy shook his head softly, making another gentle shushing sound, “my lord, I know it hurts, but I know you can be strong, I know you can love again. You and I both know that if you die before the curse is broken you won’t be reborn, and then it would be pointless… you don’t want that, right?”

                He shook his head, clutching a fistful of soft blue cotton between his fingers as he trembled.

                “Then I’m afraid all we can do is keep doing this year after year until we get it right. I know it’s unfair but try for her… for me. I’ll be with you, my lord.” The boy said softly, resting his head against the gently tremoring silver cloak of hair, “you’re not alone. We’ll find the one who can help us, okay. It might take a long time, but we can do this. Until then, please try to bear the weight of our sins…”

                He nodded, pulling back and wiping his eyes on the back of his robes. He would have to be strong, he had a friend to press forward for now. The other boy gently stretched out a hand as they stood to their feet.

Viktor took the object of his scorn and fear out his pocket, staring at the beating, scarlet object for a moment, feeling the heft of his sins as it pulsed in his hands, so bright and warm. A crueller, greedier, more primal part of his being felt a strange grim exaltation as he held it in his fingers, feeling the warmth wash over him like his mother’s soft embrace once more. However, mostly he felt guilt, the guilt of a child who had been forced to do something no child should ever have to do… He tried his hardest not to think of the poor soul on top of the mountain, doubled over with cloudy grey, lifeless eyes as the elders nodded grimly and pushed him to drive his claws into the poor human’s soft flesh. They would live forever, but at the price of becoming one of the Soulless Ones, the beasts that roamed the woods and would’ve torn his throat out had he not been protected by his father’s only gift…

He closed his eyes, putting his lips against the heart, the taste of iron filling his mouth and clinging to his tongue and throat as he ate, feeling alive for the first time in a year, the first time since that poor heart’s previous owner had climbed up the hill, the first time since mother went to join the stars above…

_Alive._ _Alive._ _Alive._ _Warm and Alive. So Nice and Warm and Alive, Alive, Alive._

Yuuri shuddered as the scene seemed to scatter like the flakes off the wings of a moth. He stared up, glassy-eyed into Viktor’s eyes and found that the both of them were crying.

“I’m so sorry…” He whispered, his voice thick with tears.

“I am too…” Viktor replied, placing another trembling-lipped kiss onto Yuuri’s.

“I promise…” Yuuri whispered as the other man pulled back hesitantly, “that you’ll never do that again, that I will break this curse for all of us.”

“I believe in you, Yuuri…” Viktor said softly, “but just in case, please promise me that this time next year, if it comes to it, you will do what you refused to do the first time we spoke. It must end, one way or another…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an angsty chapter, but I promise happier times are on their way too... in a way, sadness makes the happier times so much sweeter, doesn't it?
> 
> the notes because we love the lore in this house:  
> \- In Viktor's memory, he's not married to the person whose heart he's forced to eat since he's the equivalent of a ten-year-old. Before he was of age, mortals sent up the mountain were literally sacrificed (though they would try to open his heart with platonic friendship).  
> \- This is the first time he meets Christophe, aww. They're so tiny, and Chris is so soft.  
> \- In case it's not clear, his mother used to be able to keep his heart warm enough but after she died he needed to take the hearts of mortals to replace her.  
> \- Gods, immortals and demigods can die, they just don't die of old age. If they're killed by an outside force, they're reborn into the cosmos as something else (as are mortals), but cursed and soulless beings can't be reborn. :'>


	9. Unexpected Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peaceful morning is interrupted by unexpected visitors

Yuuri shivered as he felt the cool fingers against his chest, pulling a soft blanket up and trying to bury himself deeper into the nest of soft duvets and fluffy pillows. Despite the warm temperature outside, the bedroom was always incredibly cold. He felt a little bit like a heat sink as the other man pressed his form against his spine, sending another shudder of cold through his body.

                Despite the cool feeling of the other’s skin against his own, he had come to appreciate the contact, the gentle trailing of fingertips that traced the contours of his torso, subconsciously mapping the planes of his skin with his delicate touch. There was something comforting, despite the chill. He knew in his heart that the warmth flowing through his veins, radiating on the surface of his body like an aura of sunlight, gave the other man comfort and safety that he seldom felt otherwise. In a sense, Viktor was almost vulnerable in that regard, long since abandoned by the warm rays of the sun, the flicker of a candle’s flame, all of it. Because of that, Yuuri reckoned, he didn’t mind being a replacement for those things. If his own body could offer him a minute’s repose from the eternal winter that was Viktor’s every moment, then he didn’t mind being a warm shelter. Not to mention, it made him feel strangely wanted, as though he was an integral part of someone’s life despite being one in a long line of candidates…

_The last one, if everything went according to plan._

                The last few weeks had been promising, with gentle moments spent almost basking in a tranquil domesticity. They would wake in the morning in the round bed they shared, wrapped up in heavy blankets and occasionally, each other’s limbs, and then they would either soak in the summer, lazily lounging around the grounds. There was something strangely foreign, something almost decadent about this sort of gently ebbing and flowing existence compared to the rough struggle for survival that Yuuri’s life had once been. In a sense, there was something that almost made him feel guilty, and yet, there was a sense of purpose that gently picked at the anxious knot in his gut.

                If everything went according to plan, then life would be easier not just for the pair of them, but for everyone. The thought of everyone’s hopes riding on him filled him simultaneously with dread and with a sense of hope, of dutiful determination.

                However, at the moment there was very little in terms of duty. His consciousness was a simple speck of dust gently dancing on an updraft, glinting slightly in the sunlight as it passed through a beam of light. There was something almost reverent, serene about simply lying in bed before the day truly began. As he felt the warm flicker of candlelight behind his closed eyelids, Yuuri focused his wandering mind on the man currently nestled against him, all frigid touches and cool breaths against his neck. The gentle rising and falling of his chest as he slept, calm and undisturbed by the unnatural stillness below the surface of his skin.

                The stillness that had taken so long to get used to. Initially, the still, silence in the other man’s chest filled him with instinctive panic, thoughts of death and danger. Even though he had since quelled the instinctual connection between the lack of a pulse and mortality, a new sentiment had settled in its place. The feeling was difficult for Yuuri to place, something akin to sympathy pains, something cold and profoundly sad which bloomed in Yuuri’s chest like frost on a window pane on a cold morning. He had once felt it stir, very slightly under his fingers one night.

                He wanted more than anything to recapture that gentle stirring, so soft and light, like a snowflake melting on his tongue.

                He felt his eyelashes flutter in front of his eyes as his mind became vaguely aware of the noise outside the door. He pried his tired eyes open and met the dim candlelight with a sigh as he gently sat up, drawing a muffled whimper from his companion as the other man found his sleep disturbed by the motion. He normally wouldn’t bother, trying to sink back into the gentle tide of sleep, but there was an urgency to the footsteps outside the door that felt genuinely troubling.

                Surely enough, the door swung open, not quite violently, but brusquely enough to rouse even Victor, who raised his head drearily, eyes still bleary and unfocused from the abrupt awakening. Christophe made his way into the chamber, his brow furrowed in a stern expression of deep concern and perplexment.

                “You know I would usually never deign to trouble you as such on such a lovely morning, but I am afraid we have some unexpected company, my liege,” The satyr said in a serious tone that was completely unlike his usual bright and affable manner. “It would do you well to make yourself presentable and meet with them.”

                “Well then, don’t withhold the damage. Do share, who is it?” Viktor replied with a sigh as he slowly proceeded to rise, pulling on the same robe he’d worn the day before. “Clearly, the fact that the nymphs aren’t in tow means that there’s no time to be delicate about my presentation…”

                “Perceptive as always,” Christophe said with a thin smile, folding his arms over his chest, “continuing with that thread, I am certain you know exactly one person who is quite that impatient, my liege.”

                “Oh dear…” Viktor said as he returned Christophe’s wry smile, adjusting the floral accoutrement upon his head, quickly combing his hair with his fingertips, “is it that darling baby brother of mine, come to congratulate me on the wedding as per usual?”

                “Of course.” Christophe replied, “Mila is keeping his party occupied in the entrance hall right now. You know how he gets.”

                “Brother?” Yuuri asked suddenly, his voice perplexed and shaky as he threw on one of Viktor’s robes, in turn, surprised by this turn of events. Despite the thousands of legends that had trickled down to the kingdom of man, none had mentioned anything of this sort, or at least, certainly none that Yuuri was aware of.

                “Ah, technically he’s my half brother,” Viktor said softly, turning his eyes to Yuuri, “the one my father sired with his actual wife, as opposed to the bastard who inherited his estate. He never took that particular fact very well, regrettably. Despite that, he’s not a terrible child. Vaguely impatient, has a temper that would match his mother’s, but otherwise quite pleasant.”

                “I see…” Yuuri said, furrowing his brow in turn as he tried to make sense of this new addition to the family tree, “would it not make sense for him to inherit these lands instead?”

                “Of course it would, which is exactly why I inherited the estate.” Viktor said as the pair hurriedly walked out the door and into the hall, “father has always been… whimsical. Does whatever he wants without much regard for the other elder gods. So if he wants his mistress and the half-breed to get the castle, then they do. Still, at least he didn’t gift the succession to me as well or else I am certain all hell would’ve broken loose by now.”

                “Is that why she, I mean…” Yuuri started anxiously, uncertain as to whether or not such conversation was off limits.

                Viktor shook his head, a cool laugh escaping his throat as he did, “of course not. He’s much younger than me, so it wasn’t as though she knew of father’s contrivances. No, I’m afraid that was just good old-fashioned jealousy…”

                The pair entered the main corridor without many more words exchanged between the two of them. Yuuri felt a pang of trepidation in his steps as he walked, desperately trying not to cast his eyes on the floor and project a vague sense of confidence. Despite his assurances that his new brother-in-law wasn’t to be feared outside of being prone to impatience, Yuuri still wasn’t quite sure how to approach such situations. Still, he was vaguely hopeful, as at least Viktor wasn’t apparently too ruffled by the whole affair besides being caught unaware of the visit.

                Perhaps this would be like an ordinary family gathering despite everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long unexplained hiatus everyone, I've been out of sorts recently (and out of the province, eek!) so writing has been hard. Still, my mental health is doing a lot better so there's no need to worry!
> 
> Thank you so much for still hanging on and dealing with me, I really appreciate the continued support!
> 
> With that, I do so wonder who the visiting party is... hmmm, such suspense, such intrigue!


End file.
